This is the Start
by Ashler
Summary: For years, Rose has trekked through the stars and jumped dimensions for her Doctor. Despite her sacrifice, she is stranded with an artificial re-creation of the man she loves. Her life now revolves around one simple question, "Who are you?" Post Journey's End. Meta Crisis DoctorxRose
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hello All!

This is my first Dr. Who fan fiction. I'm excited, but I'm rusty as a writer. I have never written a novel before, and for the first time ever, I'm writing chapter length chunks. I don't know if this will be novel length by the end, but I hope you stick around for the ride anyway. I'm working on it as I go and will go back and do major edits if necessary. Constructive criticism is welcome, however, I believe that as a writer I have some creative license with my interpretation of the characters and story.

In this version, the Meta Crisis Doctor **was not given a piece of the TARDIS**. This will be strictly what was in the final cut of the Journey's End episode. This is a drama/action about Rose coming to terms with her new situation and vice verse for 10 II. If that's not your cup of tea, then I apologize. There are a billion other fan fiction on this site for you to enjoy! I know this first chapter is short. My chapters will get progressively longer as I flesh it out.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who and its characters.

Review if you wish!

Enjoy~

* * *

Her Doctor was standing to her right, all in brown and pinstripes. His hands—usually open and warm—were stuffed in his pockets. The man who looked like her doctor to her left mirrored him, while her mother stood in the background, silently observing the scene. Rose dreaded to know what was to unfold herself. They knew something that she did not. She could feel it. But when her Doctor revealed his intentions, it came as a punch to the gut. He couldn't do this to her—couldn't make decisions for her—no, not this time.

She wouldn't let him.

"All right both of you, answer me this," she said, looking at her Doctor, "when I last stood on this beach—on the worst day of my life—what was the last thing you said to me?"

When he did not reply, her patience withered, "Go on, say it."

"I said Rose Tyler."

Her heart raced, "Yeah, and?" anticipation inclined steadily within her chest, "how was that sentence gonna end?"

The look in his eye broke her heart before he could even say the words. "It doesn't need saying."

Disbelief seared her chest. Her throat, unusually dry, scratched as she swallowed. Her blond hair swung as she turned to his counterpart. The familiarity and warmness in his soft brown eyes startled her. She, for some reason, supposed she'd find physical flaw in the copy, but could not.

"And you, Doctor?" She could barely finish her sentence as the clone was already beginning to descend upon her. His hand was steadying her elbow as his lips drew near the strands of her blond hair.

Her voice waned and softened at his touch, "What was the end of that sentence?"

His breath ghosted over her ear, sending an array of tingles down her spine. There was an absolute—what was the word? Tenderness? Reverence?—in his voice. A wave of peace washed over her. He had uttered the words that she had so desperately needed. Her spirit soared.

When he had retreated, all she could see was the face of the man she loved. All the spray of freckles were dotted in the familiar pattern that she knew. She followed the trail of his sharp nose up to his high cheekbones, and then down to his mouth. She couldn't help but stare at them. She had waited too long—four seconds to be exact—before she grabbed him by the lapels.

Her lips crashed with his all too quickly. If her thoughts had been more collected, if perhaps her heart wasn't drowning, she would have felt their noses bumping painfully into each other's flesh. Instead, she clung to him, letting a small whimper of need out from her mouth. Their lips locked and moved to a rhythm with an intensity that just felt natural—right. Her hands snaked around his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer—needing to feel him—touch him—satisfy this desire that had been held at bay for four, long years. He seemed to have mirrored her thoughts for she was suddenly flush against his body-as though he were afraid that she'd disappear if he didn't. He embraced her with his deceivingly strong, slender arms around her waist—her back—fingers clutching her jumper fiercely. He slyly slipped his tongue over her plump lips and entered at her persistence. She heard him groan at the taste of her mouth. Her senses became overloaded as her mouth was assaulted with the sweet taste of him. How long had she been dreaming of a moment like this? Her feelings of denial and hurt diminished to a crucial point of desire, as she poured all her energy into the kiss.

In the here and now, this was her Doctor.

And without a single word, the Doctor—her real Doctor—was gone.

Her heart ripped as she heard the wheezing of the TARDIS slow to a faint whisper. She gasped, wrenching herself away from the man's deceiving grasp. That sound—the sound of the universe, unending and immortal—melted with the crash of the waves behind her. The image of that blue box disappeared entirely.

The shock of his departure padded her brain for only a moment before the despair settled over her body. The only thought that kept repeating itself like a wicked mantra was: _You betrayed him. How could you?_ She mentally recoiled. Her stomach threatened to vomit. Oh God, she really was going to be sick! Heat prickled at the back of her neck—

Slender fingers suddenly laced with hers. It instantly anchored her back to the present. She looked down at them with vague confusion. They felt warm, inviting, and hopeful. It felt like his hands. But then again, not like him at all. Her gaze slowly traveled the length of his hand all the way up the blue sheen of his blazer, and finally to his face. She didn't realize that he'd be staring back at her with a profound emotion that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Fondness, perhaps? No, no, that seemed too understated. Adoration? And then the memories of his words slithered into her ears—taunting her of her idiocy: _"I love you."_

Her eyes shot up to meet hopeful, brown eyes. She could only stare at him with mouth agape—lips plump and swollen. His own mouth stretched into a tentative grin. The fingers laced with hers squeezed reassuringly. However, the small endearment only continued to trigger nausea.

She wriggled from his clutch without making eye contact. He did not resist her, but from her peripheral view she could see his hand still trying to seek, and comfort her.

"He left me."

"Rose," he whispered, but she refused to look at him. Instead, her sights remained glued to the sand where the TARDIS once stood. She wondered if she would find an imprint of the Police Box there. She felt warmth at her shoulder but ice shot through her chest. The coldness drummed in her veins, seizing her mind and melting it into oblivion. Her mind was screaming.

Hazel eyes flashed to the imposter, "Don't," she jerked from him, "Don't touch me." Her voice was surprisingly calm. The tone was icy as she glared at him.

"Rose, Are you alright?" he whispered, his voice wary.

His eyes swept across her face, desperately trying to find notes of sympathy. Instead, an expression of confusion and revulsion mixed together on the planes of Rose's face. She began to sway on her feet, suddenly unsteady. Cradling her head within her hands, a sickening anger stabbed her heart the moment he attempted to steady her again. She faced him head on.

"Three years. Three whole bloody years of my life, I spent looking for that man. I jumped through worlds—dimensions—I-I…" the words began to become lost in her throat. "I endured horrors and…" she sobbed wildly, "I lost a part of me!" She could feel her body quiver with rage, "I sacrificed everything for him!" The pain was suddenly unbearable. Tears pricked her bottom lashes, her throat became constricted, "And what does he do?" At this, she gesticulated in his direction, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"Wait, Rose, listen to me—"

"No, you shut up and listen to me for once!"

Satisfied with his silence, she continued her rampage, "What does he do? He goes and leaves me again, on the same bloody beach with this…this...this copy!" Rose hissed through her teeth as tears began to fall indiscriminately down her cheeks, "did he really think he could replace himself so easily? Just like that?" Her voice lowered an octave to mock him, "Oh! I have a brilliant idea! Let's see if Rose will fall for this one? She won't know the bloody difference!"

"It's not like that."

"I said shut up!" She covered her face with her hands as she let out a frenzied, frustrated scream. Suddenly, she felt the familiar warmth of her mother's arms. Immediate gratitude and relief swelled in her sobs. Rose reached blindly for her mother, clutching her tight within her embrace.

"Oh, darling, shhh, it'll be okay," her mother soothed, smoothing her hair from her face.

"No it's not! Not it's not, mum!" she sobbed.

"It's alright, Rose. Everything will be okay, I promise. We'll work it out."

"How?" she demanded.

"We'll think of something, alright? Just let it out for now."

"But, mum," she wailed, "It's not fair," she hiccuped, streaks of black mascara pooled down her cheeks.

"I know, sweetheart, I know." she kissed her forehead.

"Why did I do that?" Rose's voice was muffled within the embrace, but she heard her all the same.

"Do what? What are you talking about?"

Rose looked up, eyes swollen, and nose runny, "How could I have thought it was him? How could I have been so stupid as to—to—" she let out another shuddered sob, "And now he's gone. He's gone, mum! So many years… I… oh God." Her voice hoarse, she let out another anguished cry, attempting to hide within her mother's arms.

She didn't hear the strange man walk away with heavy steps.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hope you enjoy. I apologize if the slang is off somehow. I'm not from the UK... I really tried to research how to write it properly. If anyone from the UK wants to give their two cents about how to write slang, that'd be cool too. AND, I know that the supposed beach is no where near any town. I took the artistic liberty to add one. That's my reason. Take it how you will.

Disclaimer: Doctor Who doesn't belong to me

Review if you wish~

* * *

Rose had spilled all her tears. Her sobs had ebbed into sniffling. She sat, with broken resolve and looked out to the sea. Her mind crumbled under the raw memories like the grain of sand in her clenched fist. Wrenching her arm back, Rose threw the clump into the waves. It dissolved too quickly. Bending over, her hands scratched at the gritty surface to repeat the action. The sea, in return, began to splash at her trainers, teasing her with sporadic bursts of attack. It was laughing at her—insulting her inability to chase away the pain. Sand embedded deep under her nails as she crouched down to claw at another round.

"Rose, you alright?"

Startled, Rose whipped around to face the intruder upon her tirade. The wet sand, along with her anger, slid from her grip as she stared back into her mother's eyes. The love and concern in her mum's face overwhelmed her.

Tears threatened to spill once more, but she steeled herself, cleared her throat, and smiled, "Yeah, I'm alright, mum. It's just therapeutic is all," she shrugged, rubbing her hands together to get rid of the remaining sand.

Jackie gave her a sympathetic smile, "it's almost over, Rose. I promise," she stepped toward her daughter swept some stray hairs that kept whipping her face.

Rose kept a tight-lipped grin, "maybe, I dunno, mum. It's far from over but I don't want to think about it. I just want to go home. I'm knackered."

"Oh, we'll be home soon enough. I got a hold of your father and let him know where we are," Jackie held up her phone and wiggled it triumphantly in front of her, "Lucky we got dropped off in the right time too..." she paused once seeing the grimace on her daughter's face.

"Quite generous of him," Rose said, her lips pursing sourly, "at least he got the bloody time right."

"Oh sweetheart, I know this isn't…" Jackie paused, "this isn't what you—"

"Wanted?" Rose offered, "no… it's not."

Her mum looked like she was about to say something but thought better of it. Instead, she let the silence consume them both. The wind nipped at Rose's face but she sniffed defiantly at the cold. She looked out at the dark blue sea, lapsing and crashing against the shore. Its pull was hypnotic and almost angry as it slammed against the cliffs and rocks. One of the rocky protrusions looked like a creature she was all too familiar with.

"Looks like a wolf, doesn't it?" Jackie said, cutting through her trance and eerily echoing her thoughts, "Guess it makes sense as to why they call it the way they do. You know? The erm..."

"Bad Wolf Bay," Rose finished, not tearing her eyes away from the ocean.

"Right. Symbolic and all, right?" she said, giving her daughter a pointed look.

Rose glanced at her mom, her brows furrowing, "what are you on about, mum?"

Her mum simply shrugged, "it's just that, you and this place—it means something right? Almost something bigger than the both of us. It's almost like you were made to be here."

Rose scoffed at the idea, "what? Like destiny or some tosh? Are you having a laugh, mum?" she snapped but instantly regretted it. Her mum didn't deserve that kind of talk. It wasn't her fault that she was in this mess. She sighed, "Sorry. Look, I just don't believe in that stuff. Not anymore that is."

"Why not?"

"Because, it's all relative. Time and space. There's no 'destiny', no 'fate'. It's all on you. You make the choices. You make your own fate. Nothing else controls what you do. Bad Wolf was… it was something like a consequence—not fate."

Jackie nodded, giving a hum of acknowledgement, "if that's the case, sweetheart, what are you going to do?"

Rose was at a loss for words. She knew what her mum meant by that. But, the thought of the man who put her in all this mess just hurt too much. Frowning, she shrugged her shoulders in defeat, "I don't know, mum. I really don't."

"Do you plan on leaving 'im here?"

Rose shook her head, "no, I couldn't do that to him. Even if he's… not… well, I can't leave him here. Who knows what kind of trouble he'd wind up in all by himself."

"Good. Because I would have dragged his skinny arse with us anyway! He's practically defenseless out here, isn't he?"

Threading her fingers through her hair, Rose nodded incredulously, "He really cocked up this one. No sonic screwdriver, no TARDIS! Like, what the hell was he thinking? What did he possibly want from this?"

"Didn't he say what he wanted, though?"

Rose stilled at this. She gave a nod in acknowledgement but she was afraid if she'd say anything else her chest would explode with sobs again. She knew perfectly well what the Doctor wanted from her. He wanted her to have a life with this clone—to start over with a man who had his face and voice but not his hearts. He wanted her to tame the man who had just committed genocide over the Dalek race.

 _"You were born in battle, full of blood and anger and revenge. Remind you of someone? That's me, when we first met. And you made me better. Now you can do the same for him."_

God, he was frustrating. How could he think she could throw everything they had together and start again with a phony? This wasn't the same. How daft could he be? There would be no TARDIS, no time and space, no heart-racing adventure. Without all that, who was he? Who was the Doctor without the bane of his existence? How dare he claim it was him!

However, that anger boomeranged towards herself. She mentally kicked herself for how easily she could fall for it all.

 _"I'm part human. Specifically, the aging part. I'll grow old and never regenerate. I've only got one life, Rose Tyler. I could spend it with you, if you want."_

 _"You'll grow old at the same time as me?"_

 _"Together."_

 _Isn't that what you always wanted to hear?_ Her inner voice sneered _, so desperate for his love. You're willing to jump on the opportunity no matter what it looks like. As long as it's handed to you on a silver platter, right? How could you be so weak?_ The voice continued to mock, _look who's the sad arse now! Oh God._ She could feel herself mentally falling again—spiraling into oblivion. She royally cocked up, didn't she? And now, she was here to face the consequences. She'd never see him again. He obviously didn't want her anymore. _He couldn't even say the damn words, could he?_

"Stop it."

Rose blinked in surprise, "what?"

"I said stop it. I know what you're doing and it's not good for you."

Her mouth opened to protest but found it pointless with the knowing look her mum was giving her. Her arms slumped to her sides, "you're right." The silence only confirmed her defeat.

"Now, we should all get off this devilish beach before we all freeze to death. Your dad said he'll meet us at the hotel up this way in a couple of hours. He got on the soonest flight he could get his hands on." she started forward and nodded toward the small town,"I think he's up there already."

"Dad?"

"No, that new Doctor."

Rose balked, "What? All alone?" God, please don't find any trouble. I've had enough for one bleeding day.

"Yeah," Jackie said, calm as could be, "He's a grown man, Rose. I gave him a few krones so he could buy something nice for himself."

Rose turned to her, her mouth slightly gaping, "h-how do you still have krones on your person, mum?"

Jackie grinned cheekily to herself, "Oh, thought something like this might happen again. Had some left over from last time. I think you should give me and the Doctor a little more credit."

Folding her arms, Rose's eyes grew cold and small, "He's not the Doctor."

Jackie rolled her eyes, "Well, whoever he is—Doctor clone—whatever—you gotta talk to him some time or another."

"I can avoid it for now. It's just so awkward, mum."

Jackie leaned in and rubbed her arm gingerly, "For the time being, yes. It'll only get worse if you delay it—consequences and all that, right?" she winked at her daughter who blanched, "better to do it sooner rather than later. You'll be seeing a lot of him now that he's here."

"Not if I can help it," she muttered.

She heard her mother sigh, a sound she was all too familiar with when she knew she was being stubborn. "He's given you space, sweetheart. He respects you enough. You should do the same." With a small grin, Jackie turned to trail up the beach.

Hair whipping in the wind, Rose looked toward the ground as she followed her mum. Every step became a mental challenge. The closer she was to the town and finding him, the worse the pit in her stomach grew. The kiss was still evident on her lips. The puffiness of her bottom lip had yet to go down. It was a tangible reminder of her mistake.

Her trainers picked up dry sand into her socks. The grittiness scratched her skin as they trudged up the steep path. She focused on avoiding the stiff brush and sharp rocks before stepping out onto flat land. When she looked up, she couldn't help but be shocked at seeing him so suddenly.

White chucks were placed haphazardly to his left. His socks were stuffed in the lip of the shoes. His feet were bare and his toes wiggling for her to see. He was sitting crisscrossed with his back hunched against a stone wall that was a barrier between the beach and the town. It was crumbling from the lack of maintenance and care. The small town draped behind him like a looming silhouette. His head bowed, his eyes were staring at a white, cardboard-like dish. The contents within made her heart stop.

She looked to her mum who nodded to him instead. Dread knotted in her stomach. Just looking at him hurt. However, her mother's words rang truth in her mind. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't just leave him and the memories behind.

She came to his left, avoiding tripping over his chucks. As she approached, his hands stilled on his legs. He looked up at her, his neck twisting slightly to meet her gaze. He looked over her face, saying nothing. She knew that he was waiting for her to say something, to allow her to make the first move.

"So…" a beat passed. She hoped against hope that she could disappear and someone else could take her place. Her eyes sought the comfort of her mother—to gain strength from her. She didn't even want to be talking to him. She couldn't look at him. She felt like a petulant child, attempting to wriggle out of something she didn't want to do. Her mum's closeness encouraged her to continue, as though she needed a hand to hold while talking to strangers. Her ego bristled at the thought.

She sighed, "so, we're gonna wait for my dad to come pick us up. Up at this motel over there," she pointed, "just letting you know." Awkwardness filled the gap of silence. She still refused to look at him even though she could feel his deep brown eyes searching for hers.

"Alright," she heard him say before leaning toward her to reach his chucks. She side-stepped his grasp instinctively. He hesitated for a moment—enough for her to notice—before he stood beside her with his chucks dangling from his hand while holding the small cardboard platter with the other.

His bare feet padded softly against the rocky cobblestone. It was an odd sight, she concluded. It made him look vulnerable—human even. Or at least, more human than he looked. She often forgot that her Doctor was alien. He proved to have emotions that were just as legitimate and deep as any human being. But now she'd have to remind herself that the Doctor used to be more alien than he is now—to remind herself that he's not the Doctor at all. She couldn't make the same mistake again.

"Looks like you got yourself a bit of a snack?" Jackie smiled, making light conversation as they walked along the sandy, cobbled street. Her mum was gracious enough to walk in between the two of them.

"Oh, I—uh, yes. These are for Rose, actually," he said looking down solemnly at the fried snack, "only if you want them," he added, making eye contact with her. She quickly looked away. Her mother nudged her arm with her elbow, igniting her irritation.

"Look Rose! How lovely! It's your favorite," she gave Rose a don't be an arse look. Her mother continued to tilt her head toward the man with inconspicuous nods. She got the hint.

"Thanks," she said, but didn't attempt to reach for them. She could feel her mum's glare boring into the side of her face but couldn't summon enough energy to care. Her stomach on the other hand, betrayed her pride. A small growl was emitted from her stomach, alerting everyone of her hunger. Her eyes narrowed when spotting the fake Doctor's small grin.

"I'll pass these to her, then," Jackie offered, retrieving the box from his hands.

Once it was in her grasp, she looked down at the snack with resignation. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes grew soft. Some of that pent-up anger began to slowly evaporate.

He got her chips.

Her mouth quivered slightly. Memories of his previous incarnation filled her mind. She remembered how his blue eyes were fierce but soft when he looked at her. How they lighted in mischief when he first grabbed her hand and said "run!" She remembered after their first adventure together how he asked if she wanted to go home. She was hesitant then. She didn't know what she wanted. But she smelled the salty aroma of chips and knew she wanted those. She chuckled at the thought.

 _"I want chips," she said, emotionally drained but strangely happy to be with the man beside her._

 _He laughed, his whole face crinkled with the effort, "me too!" he smiled._

 _"Right then. Before you get me inside of that box, chips it is," she looked him up and down, "and you can pay."_

 _He shook his head, his tone unapologetic, "No money."_

 _Shaking her head, "What date are you?" she scolded playfully, her mouth smirking as she continued, "Come on then, tightwad. Chips are on me." She graced him with a genuine smile, one that he returned with ease, "we only got five billion years before the shops close!" she stuck her tongue at him playfully and his smile reached his eyes for the first time. And for the first time, she was truly happy._

That was years ago. She was younger then—impressionable and eager to break free from her mundane life. But, things changed—they always do. She was not that nineteen-year-old shop girl anymore. She hadn't been for a long time.

Gradually, she began to nibble at the treat. It lacked vinegar, but the fresh crispness of it was delectable. She was grateful that it appeased her hunger for the meantime. She wouldn't let the old memories taint her view of the fake Doctor. He may have his memories and face, but that did not make him hers.

They soon made their way to a motel, eager to rest from the chaotic events of the day. She knew she wasn't the only one who was exhausted from helping her Doctor save the world. They had all just survived a hoard of Daleks after all. Her mum's eyes were drooping as she pulled out her phone to open the translating app.

"Can we get two rooms please?" her mum asked and the phone spat out the Norwegian translation to the lady at the desk, "just for one night," she added and the small woman smiled and nodded. Meanwhile, Rose was shifting her weight from foot to foot, anxious to be alone with her mum again. She needed time away from him—needed space to clear her head. It was only fair for them both. He seemed to sense this because he didn't attempt to talk to her the entire time they sorted out their room situation. He only spoke when spoken to by her mum and even then, Rose flinched at the sound of his voice.

Trudging back outside, they stopped in front of rooms 1B and 2 A. "Now, don't get into too much trouble!" Jackie warned to the new Doctor with a smile.

His own smile was lacking, but was still sincere, "wouldn't dream of it," he winked.

"Good. We'll fetch you as soon as we know when Pete's here, okay? Just don't wander around too far."

"Will do," he said, his hands twitching around the key they gave him at the front desk. Rose couldn't help but notice that he wasn't attempting to open his door—rather, waiting for them first. Jackie wiggled the keys in their door before swinging it open with gusto.

"Alright, I'm taking a long-deserved nap!" she declared before muttering how she hoped there wasn't a 'blinking draft in the room'. Rose was about to follow before she heard the clink of a key behind her. Without thinking, she looked behind her and saw that the new Doctor—God, she hated calling him that, she'd have to think of something else for him—had accidentally dropped his keys. He fumbled a bit before bending to pick it up. Their eyes met for a second, before she turned to enter her room.

"Hey Rose…" she stopped, hating the way that he sounded so much like him. She refused to turn toward him, her arms tightened around herself. Anticipation of what he was about to say began to build in her gut and up her throat.

Just go away, go away, go away, go away!

There was a long, pregnant pause. She glanced at him, disliking how her heart twinged at the look on his face. His gaze shifted toward his bare feet, he shook his head, "Oh… never mind."

Grateful, she took that as her cue to leave. She ignored the dejected lilt in his voice. She ignored the way his whole body seemed to slump as she retreated. She promised that she didn't see the blatant hurt in his eyes. It was a cruel trick of her imagination. He was fine.

Her head rested against the closed door. A shuddered sigh escaped her lips. Tears seeped through closed lids as she bit her lip to compress another sob.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I apologize for any grammatical mistakes. I'm posting and editing as I go. It encourages me to get it done rather than nitpicking my work for days. The story is still a little slow, but it'll pick up soon enough. There will be more Meta-Crisis and Rose interaction in the next chapter. Thank you for the few that have reviewed so far. You have my deepest gratitude. Little pick me ups like that always encourage me to continue writing.

Without further Ado,

Enjoy and Review!

* * *

Rose woke up to the sound of hushed voices. Whispers flitted through the door and around her subconscious. The sensitive skin around her eyes felt like cement as she squinted in the dark. It took a moment to comprehend her surroundings. The foreign linens slid around her body when she shifted. The alarm clock to her right flashed in bright, neon green: 4: 23 am. Her eyes widened. She slept for thirteen hours. That was almost triple the amount that she was used to. It had been too long since she'd had a proper sleep, but now that she'd had it, her mind felt sluggish and weak.

The cool air pricked her skin, forming goosebumps all over her body when she sat up. Looking down, she recognized that she was dressed in her plain t-shirt and knickers. Her bra was flung haphazardly on the floor along with her trousers and jumper. Her cheeks felt stiff and her pillow was stained with mascara. I probably look like a raccoon now, she thought as she rubbed her face. She sighed when her fingers were smudged with black makeup. Her suspicions were confirmed. She had cried herself to sleep with her mom by her side stroking her hair. It felt good to sob again. Her chest felt hollow from wiping out her emotions in one go. However, apathy had settled quietly in the wake of the cleansing.

"She's just having a rough go is all," a feminine voice said—definitely her mum.

Her ears perked at the conversation that had disturbed her sleep. The walls, she found, were paper thin. She sat there quietly in the dark, listening.

"It takes time for these things to settle in. She'll come around though, I promise." She recognized her dad's voice and sighed in relief. At least they'd be going home soon, "we'll take care of you in the meantime. If you need anything, just let us know."

"That's very kind of you. Both of you. I…I don't deserve your hospitality."

"Nonsense! You're like family now," her mum said, "we'll help you."

"Oh, we'll have to get him some new identification, won't we?" her dad suggested.

"Yes, yes! And perhaps a new name? What do you want to be called?"

"What, he can't be 'The Doctor' anymore?" her dad chuckled.

"I mean, if his earth parents were daft, then yes! 'Sides, he's part human now. He's got a brand-new life ahead of 'im."

"It's up to you, mate. Not sure if it suits well with you or not."

"Well…I suppose it wouldn't hurt..." the new Doctor paused.

"You don't have to think of one right on the spot. You can think about it if you want," her mum said.

"I think… John. John Smith."

Rose blinked in surprise at this. She could hear her mum laugh, "John Smith? So ordinary! Well, blimey, if that's what you want, then!"

"I think it's brilliant. Simple and to the point," her dad said.

"Well, if it makes 'im happy."

"Perhaps we should get a fake birth certificate too. Can't get around much without the basics," her dad added.

"That's right!" her mum agreed, "you don't have any of your magic paper now, do you?"

"Psychic paper," he corrected politely, "And, no. No… I don't," he said, almost too quietly for her to hear.

"Ah, cheer up! Don't you worry about it. You'll adjust soon enough. Being human isn't all that bad!" she could hear the smile in her mum's voice. She imagined she

was patting his arm to make him feel better. Her mum was good at that.

"It's not that. I'll manage. I worry about her is all."

"No need to worry about her. Rose will be fine, I promise," her dad interjected. She frowned at this. The thought of "being fine' was furthest from the truth.

With an exasperated huff, Rose swung her legs to the edge of the twin bed. She grabbed her clothes from the floor before quickly padding toward the small bathroom. If they decided to walk in at that moment, they'd get an eyeful of skin, but she'd had enough of eavesdropping for one day. She turned the knob and pushed the bathroom door open. The counter-top was very small, she had to stuff her things in the bowl of the sink to keep them from falling. Discarding her maroon t-shirt, and black knickers, she cranked the water to the hottest temperature she could stand.

The frigid air stung and she quickly jumped in the tiny shower. Her skin turned pink under the hot, beating water, but it felt soothing nonetheless. Bowing her head directly under the spout, she closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of the water drumming against her back.

Time seemed to crawl as she stood there. Water dribbled around her eyes in fast rivets as she stared at the stone floor. She hadn't moved to wash herself, just content with standing in the foggy heat. A sudden wave of exhaustion and nausea hit her. Her legs felt like they'd give out at any second. She felt herself teeter to the side. She pressed her palm firmly against the shower wall to recover herself. For a second she could feel her vision almost blurring to black as she slowly crouched to sit on the ground with her arms folded around her knees. Her body began to tremble under the pounding water. She gritted her teeth while taking a deep breath through her nose, "one… two… three…four… five," she closed her eyes, and focused on the sound her lungs made as she breathed out through her mouth, "six… seven… eight… nine… ten." She opened her eyes.

Her mind felt hollow. The emotional connection to her brain felt severed. Her heart subsided in its panicked flight as she stared firmly into the floor.

"Rose, sweetheart?"

Rose jumped at the knock at the bathroom door. Her head snapped toward the direction of the sound, just to make sure she had locked it. Relieved that she did, she smoothed her wet hair with shaky hands, "what is it mum?"

"Just checking if you're alive in there. Been in there for quite some time."

"I'm alive now. Gave me a blinking fright," she said, shaking her head.

"Well, I'm not sorry for it. How 'bout you finish up and we be on our way? Your dads here now. We can go home as soon as you're ready."

"Alright. Be out in a minute." Rose heard her mum retreat and she slowly began to stand. The hot water had become lukewarm.

* * *

Traffic was backed up for six miles. They drove in inches at a time, bumper to bumper, for two hours. The wait was miserable and boring. Rose took the time to pick at her nails and to memorize the license plate in front of her. The sounds of angry honking added to the stuffy atmosphere of frustration. She stared straight ahead, looking out from the front seat of the cab. It had been a couple of hours since they left Norway and that godforsaken beach. She silently prayed to whatever deity of this world that she'd never have to go back there again. Once was enough. Twice was downright torture. The plane ride was relatively quiet though. She had no complaints. It was strange to have the face of her Doctor there without any trouble brewing. Heaven knows the Doctor had a knack for trouble. And yet, time passed relatively normally around his counterpart.

It was the most bizarre feeling of her life.

Her eyes scanned the skies of London, feeling a pit in her stomach at the sight of zeppelins looming overhead. She had hoped against hope that she'd never have to return here either. She imagined that if her Doctor hadn't run toward her, if she hadn't decided to see him at that moment, the Dalek would have never have hit him. He wouldn't have to pour his regeneration in that severed hand of his—God knows how he knew he'd need it for something like that—to prevent him from changing again. If only she had waited for a different opportune moment to see him. But no, her selfishness got the better of her. She was desperate to see him, and it only cost her long-term happiness.

"Do you not wear EarPods anymore?"

His voice tethered her back to reality. She didn't turn to face him in the backseat, nor did she plan to answer him right away.

"No—ah, we haven't had those since the first time you lot came around," her dad answered him instead. She closed her eyes in relief, "You know, the whole mind-control thing didn't suit well for most people. That company could never make a comeback from that."

"Makes sense. Most people would get frightened at the prospect of their neurotransmitters being coerced to function in a way that was, well, abnormal." he spoke in his fast, matter-of-fact way. She could feel his legs bouncing in a rhythm directly behind her, shaking her chair. It was starting to grate on her nerves.

"Especially if it forced people to become mindless tin cans. Can't have that happening," he continued, changing his bouncy rhythm as he crossed one leg over his knees.

"And things have been wonky ever since," Jackie chimed. "I mean, look at this bleeding traffic!" Her mum nudged his arm, nodding toward the long, never ending line of cars on the road, "should've gotten a zeppelin or something. Would have gotten there much faster," she gave a pointed look to her husband.

Exasperated, he shrugged his shoulders, "didn't think it'd be necessary. Besides, I'm not one for dramatic entrances."

"Pah! You knew things would be awful. Said it was awful trying to get to us in the first place."

"I know. I'm sorry darling," he placated her with massaging her hand.

"Isn't traffic always this bad?" he asked.

"Always! But it's even worse after the mess we've had," her mum huffed.

"But, thanks to you, it's all better now—or, well, it'll start getting better. People have been in a panic with our world collapsing," Pete shook his head and pointed out the window, "See that?"

"Yes," his voice waned. Rose looked out to see the devastation to her right. Buildings were marred and torn to bits. The road had crevices the size of meteors. Yellow tape had marked a construction site where a massive crane bent to scoop up the mess. Men in neon vests directed traffic away from the site.

"It looks like a… no…" she could practically feel the gears spinning in his head from behind her."Nooo!" his exclamation drawled out in a way that she was too familiar with. From the mirror, she could see him gaping at Pete, "really?" he asked, "a tornado? In London?"

Her dad held up three fingers and sighed, "three of them."

"Blimey."

"Our world was going bonkers John," her mum said sadly—Rose scrunched her nose at the name, she wasn't used to calling him that, "It was downright awful. Terrifying, really," her mum said.

"Oh, I don't doubt it."

"It was expensive too, you know, finding you. Put a lot of money in Torchwood so they could develop that dimension canon," Pete said, "I'm glad it paid off. Rose did most of the traveling, though. First one to volunteer, that one," he nodded toward her.

"She still won't tell me half of it," her mum whispered loudly to John, "she gets a little miffed if you bring it up, so I wouldn't bother."

"I can hear you, mum," she said.

"Well, it's true. You always get all bothered if I try and talk to you about it. You usually tell me eveythin' and so it's concerning when you don't."

Rose stiffened in her seat. This was not the way she wanted their conversation to turn. She wasn't ready to talk to anyone about what happened in the past few years. She shook her head. She didn't want the memories to even begin creeping up on her. This was neither the time or place to be going down memory lane. Instead, she turned her head toward the three in the back seat.

"I'd rather just not talk about it," she said with a tight-lipped grin. From her peripheral view, she could feel John's eyes roaming over her face. His legs had stopped bouncing in place, but his hands were busy tapping on his thighs.

Her mum frowned sympathetically, "Well, I hope you know you can talk to me about anything."

"I know."

Rose resumed staring out her window, content to listen to her mum chatter to her dad. She didn't speak another word, and strangely she thought, neither did John.

* * *

The cab parked outside of the Tyler Manor with a slight screech. Her mum's eyes practically bugged out her head when she berated the cabbie for his carelessness.

Rose paid no mind as she reached for the door handle and stepped out. Her legs protested, pulling uncomfortably from sitting down all day. A slight breeze tussled her hair as she combed through it with her fingers. Her trainers crunched over the gravel driveway as she walked toward the mansion.

She had to crane her neck to take in the entire manor. The windows had been newly replaced and they glimmered in the sunlight. The lawn was neatly trimmed and the garden that her mother had put in was blossoming. The roses were of all variant shapes and sizes. She admired the pink and yellow ones the most. Her eyes lingered on them as she knocked on her front door.

After a few moments, a young woman answered. Her bright, blue eyes widened as she took in her appearance. Before either woman could say a word, a small hiccupping cry caught her attention.

"Mummy?"

Rose's heart melted at the sight of her three year old baby brother. His blond curls glared brightly in the light of the doorway. His little fist was rubbing at his eye fiercely as tears streamed down his face. His cheeks were red from the effort, and snot crusted his nose and upper lip.

"Tony, look!" the woman said, smiling while scooping him up in her arms, "It's Rosie! Your sister!"

"W-wosie," he whined, his arms reached for her. His nanny offered him to her and she gingerly took him from her grasp. She arranged his chubby legs to sit around her hip as she held him to her. He continued to sniffle and blubber into her neck.

"Thank you, Marie. I hope he didn't give you too much trouble?" she asked.

The brunette shook her head, but her tired, blue eyes gave her away, "he's just tired. And misses his mum."

"What about his mum?"

Rose turned to see her mum and dad walking toward them, hand in hand. "He misses you," she said, nodding at her mum and then gesturing to the toddler in her arms.

Releasing her husband's hand, her mum approached her and cooed over her son, "Tony! Tony," she said in a sing-song lilt. Upon seeing her, Tony's little face scrunched up in tears again. His hands reached for his mum, his fingers grasped the air in desperate attempt to be in her arms.

"It's mummy! Mummy is here, darling," Jackie smiled as she took him from Rose. Once in her arms, she smoothed his curls and kissed his head, "it's alright, Tony. Mummy's here!"

"He hasn't taken his nap yet. I was going to put him down for one until you knocked on the door. Sorry about that."

"Oh, that's alright. No need to worry, I'll handle the rest. Thank you, Marie!" her mum said before walking inside to take care of her fussy toddler.

"Yes, thank you for coming on short notice," Pete said. Rose turned to look at him and frowned when she couldn't see John behind him. Where did he go?

As her dad continued to talk to the nanny, Rose scanned the front lawn for any signs of blue. Passing her dad, she stood on tiptoe to see over the gate. No one was there. Looking to her left, and right, she couldn't find him.

As the nanny took her leave, Rose turned to her dad with her arms folded against her chest. "You looking for him?" he asked.

She bristled, holding her head a little higher, "just making sure he doesn't get into any trouble."

Her dad chuckled, shaking his head, "he's fine, Rose. Just taking a stroll around the manor. Said he wanted to stretch his legs. Can't blame him."

"Why you say that?" she asked.

"Well, we have been cooped up in a car for over two hours. Don't forget the two-hour plane ride. Oh, and all the waiting—should I continue?" he nudged her arm playfully.

She rolled her eyes, and laughed, "Alright, I get it, I get it."

"But, it's more than that, I think," he said, gesturing her inside. She followed him, her brows furrowing.

"Yeah, and?" she said as he closed the door behind her, "what more do you think it is?"

"I honestly think he's gutted over everything," he shrugged. His hands flew up in defense when he saw the incredulous look on her face, "hey, just saying. I'm calling it as it is."

"Gutted? I hardly think so. Seems fine to me," she said as she stepped toward the grand stairs. Her dad shifted in his stance, putting a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from going any further. She stopped and looked down at his hand and then up to his face. His gentle smile chipped at her resolve. That knowing look, and those loving eyes about undid her.

"Now, I'm not going to say 'give him a chance' or anything like that, alright?" She nodded in acknowledgement, grateful that he wasn't going to push that on her. His hand slid from her shoulder, his look became more thoughtful as he studied her, "take your time. No one is rushing you. But, don't shoulder your pain alone."

"Thanks dad," she said, looking down at her trainers. She didn't know what else to say to that. His words were comforting but suffocating at the same time. She needed space again—from everyone. She nodded toward the stairs, a gesture suggesting she wanted to go. He nodded back—their understanding of one another mutual. She was grateful for that. As she trailed up the stairs and into her room, she couldn't help but feel the weight of her situation crush down on her shoulders again. Her footsteps felt slow and sluggish as she crossed the carpet and sat on her bed.

She stared at her hands—overwhelmed and lost. Just don't think about it right now, she thought to herself, dad's right. You have all the time in the world. Just use it!

And use it, she did.

* * *

Rose Tyler had successfully ignored the would-be doctor aka John Smith for three weeks. It was exhausting at first considering that she'd have to tolerate his presence during mealtimes or whenever she was in the same room with him. But, for the most part, she could mentally pat herself on the back for the effort she made. She couldn't take all the credit, though. Pouring herself over her work at Torchwood made all the difference. They welcomed her back with open arms and put her back to work. They asked her questions for hours about what had happened at Medusa's Cascade and the events leading up to the destruction of the Reality Bomb and the entire Dalek race. She answered them fully and honestly, never leaving out any essential information for their databases.

It was strange then, she thought, as to why she would be called in for questioning again. Her suspicions rose as she sat alone with the woman who was responsible for the entire institution. The woman skipped all formalities and went straight to the point.

"This new Doctor," director Martha Jones stated, "the one formed from the meta-crisis?"

"Yes, what about him?" she asked, wary of the subject.

"What's his status? Where is he now?"

Rose thought carefully before answering the woman before her, "he's part human now—mortal. He's under my mum's care as of now."

"Your mum's care? Would you care to elaborate for me?" she drawled, her dark, brown eyes bored into her hazel ones. Rose did a mental comparison of the Martha Jones she had met from her previous world. She didn't think the two were similar in the least. Such was to be expected. Many people she knew from her world differed from their parallel counterparts in some fashion. The differences ranged from small to extreme. In this case, she noted, Martha seemed colder and distant in this dimension—very much a stoic leader.

"Our relationship is complicated right now. My mum and dad have helped him get his foot in the door. You know, birth certificates, identification and all that," she explained, "my dad's got close ties with people from the government. They're sorting it out as we speak."

"I see. And you didn't find it necessary to bring him here for questioning?" the way that her brow raised in a sharp arch made her swallow. She immediately steeled herself and faced the woman head on.

"He's not Torchwood's jurisdiction. He's human now. He can't regenerate. He doesn't have anything with him—no TARDIS, no sonic screwdriver, nothing. What would you want from him?"

"Are you serious?" Martha snapped, "let me remind you that the information he holds from his Time Lord counterpart could greatly benefit this institution. I'm disappointed in your lack of insight."

"Let me also remind you," she said, narrowing her eyes at the woman, "that I was the only volunteer to travel through worlds like I did. I carved that path so that everyone could safely cross it."

"And for that we are grateful but—Rose."

"I made things possible," she cut in, her anger flaring, "If not for me and my family, we'd not be having this conversation right now. I don't owe you anything."

A long, unsettling silence suffocated the room. The two women stared hard at each other before Martha sighed.

"We can never repay you for what you did, Rose," she said more gently, "I ask a lot from you. I know your relationship with John Smith is uneasy right now," Rose grinned ruefully at this, "I won't force an order for him to be brought in right now. But..."

"But?"

"I'll give you three months to sort your relationship with him before I issue the order. Is that fair?"

Rose pursed her lips, avoiding the woman's gaze. She knew that something like this would happen. She would be forced to talk to him or work with him at some point. Time couldn't be stretched forever. If only it could, she thought bitterly. Sighing, she looked up at Martha and nodded, "It's fair."

"Do we have a deal, then?" Martha asked, extending a hand toward her.

She grasped it and shook it firmly, "deal."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait! I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.

Disclaimer: Dr. Who does not belong to me!

Enjoy! Review if you'd like :)

* * *

Rose could feel every muscle quiver from strain. Closing her eyes, she focused her efforts on breathing in and out through her mouth.

"Hold it, hold it! You're doing great!" an exuberant, high pitched voice said—ruining her focus.

She looked up to glare at the television hung on the wall. "Damn you Denise," she muttered as she blew a strand of hair from her face. Her hair was put up into two messy buns on top of her head, but some stubborn strands came loose to taunt her. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead and cheeks. Her core was trembling, and a fiery ache shot through her thighs. She groaned as she continued to hold the plank position on her yoga mat.

"That's it, breathe… breathe, you're doing great!"

Rose glared at the American woman clad in a bright, neon orange sports bra and shorts. The blond held the form beautifully, with little to no strain in sight. Rose cursed under her breath again. She swore the woman and her cronies on the screen were robots in disguise. Perhaps they were Cybermen? Beautifully crafted Cybermen if I ever saw one, she thought semi enviously. Anything is possible these days, right? She grinned mockingly to herself.

"Three… two… and one!" the blond woman on the television smiled brightly. Her teeth were white and shiny, a glaring contrast to her beautiful tan. Rose collapsed on her mat, her muscles screamed in relief as she shamelessly sprawled on the ground. Her core was vindictive in its ache—reminding her of the pain she put it through.

It wasn't as if she hadn't been through more gruesome workouts before. She didn't know why her muscles should be complaining now. Her exercises and stretches were more intense when she was in gymnastics. Sometimes she wonders how toned she'd be if she kept up with the sport. She's been wondering a lot of things lately.

"Let's bring the leg in front now," Rose quickly got into position, trying to copy the move as best she could, "slowly release and we're going to start on the long crunch on this leg. Ready, and remember good posture!" the woman instructed gently. She straightened out her back and attempted to mentally prepare herself for a new wave of pain.

"Good! Now lift and lower! Lift… and lower!"

Rose's cheeks puffed furiously as she tried to keep up. A trickle of sweat dripped between her eyes and down her nose. It had been too long since she worked out. She promised herself she would keep in shape. There was no way in hell she would repeat certain incidents from happening again. Memories of a different time, a different dimension popped in her mind. An image of a child with glowing, lavender eyes suddenly consumed her. The way that he screamed for her help-the sheer helplessness she felt when she couldn't reach him. It's all your fault! She cringed, squeezing her eyes shut to chase the memory away. _If only you weren't so weak! If only you could have run faster… none of that would have happened!_

A wave of self-loathing pushed her over the edge. Crunch after crunch, she pushed her body to do twice as many as the smiling, bright instructors on screen. By the time the video ended, Rose could barely move from her mat. She lay flat on her stomach with her cheek pressed against the floor. The sound of her pulse rang dully in her head. Every limb felt heavy and sore. As she moved to stand, she swore she'd work harder next time. She had been weak in the past and the consequences were devastating.

She refused to make the same mistake again.

She grabbed her water bottle to her left and quenched her thirst. Wiping her mouth, she set the bottle down and rolled up the mat. She exited the recreation room and tiptoed down the halls. It was six in the morning and she was careful to not wake her family up. She was just about to pass the kitchen before something caught her eye.

Mixing bowls and trays were left in the wide, silver sink. Flour and dough clung to the kitchen counters and floor. An assortment of ingredients was left out or spilled in some fashion. Rose blinked at the mess. Her mum and brother must have made biscuits the night before. Although her mum wasn't the greatest of cooks, she liked to try her hand at baking occasionally. Biscuits were relatively simple to make, and they were more satisfying if they were homemade. She shook her head at the sight of the mess and put her mat down to the side. Ruth, one of their morning maids and cooks, had called in sick last night. It was also Rose's day off, and taking the time to clean wouldn't hurt. A shower could wait.

The fluorescent lights flickered to life when she flipped the switch to her right. Her trainers squeaked against the marble as she set about sweeping the floor. Within the hour, she had scrubbed the counter-tops, washed the dishes, and put the ingredients back in their proper place. She smiled at her handiwork and could hear some activity from upstairs. Her dad was most likely getting up for work. He'd probably like a cuppa…why not breakfast while we're at it? she thought to herself as she turned to the cabinet. After putting a kettle on the stove, she grabbed an apron hanging on a peg and tied the strings around her bare waist.

She cracked some eggs and watched them sizzle under the fiery temperature of the pan she prepared. She made sure to make five—an egg for each person in the house. _Even for_ him _?_ Her inner voice sneered. She took a deep breath and shrugged, _well, the man's gotta eat too,_ She reasoned to herself. _Wow,_ the inner voice scoffed, _finally playing nice? You must be in a good mood today._

 _Doesn't hurt to be._

She looked into another pot she prepped—one with simmering beans. A popular song she'd heard on the radio popped in her head and she began to hum the tune as she worked. Just as she was about to wash her hands again, the toaster popped suddenly to her right. She jumped at the sound. Every damn time, she chuckled to herself and continued to prepare breakfast and set the table.

"Can I help you with anything?"

The silverware in her hands clattered noisily on the table. She looked up to see tired, brown eyes. A fork fell and hit her squarely on her shin.

"Damn it!" she muttered as the pain began to flare. She quickly bent to pick up the fork and limp away to the sink, avoiding John's question. When she turned around, he was already picking up the rest of the silverware and setting them down neatly at the table.

"Sorry," he said, his eyes focusing on the placement of the silverware, "didn't mean to frighten you. You alright?"

"Yeah, S'all right," she said, rubbing her arm and looking anywhere else. Her eyes landed on the pans on the stove and she panicked. She quickly lifted the lid and sighed in relief.

"They okay?"

"Yeah," she murmured, grabbing a piece of toast and putting it on a plate. With her back facing him, it was easier to focus. She scooped a ladle of beans onto the toast and used a spatula to slide an egg on top. Turning around she found that he was closer than she expected. She yelped in surprise at his proximity. The plate wobbled in her hand and began to tip forward before he steadied it with ease. Without a word, he gently took the plate from her hands to set it on the table for her.

Her mouth hung slightly agape as she looked at him in shock. His stance stiffened under her gaze. "Sorry I keep surprising you," he said sheepishly.

"N-no problem—I mean thanks! Thanks for that…" she stuttered. A silence settled over the two. She rubbed her arms uncomfortably.

"I'll set the drinks then!" he announced, brushing off the stuffy atmosphere between them.

Grateful for his tactfulness, Rose continued to dish the rest of the plates and set them on the table. As he reached for the cups, her eyes wandered over his form. She looked at him—truly looked at him for the first time in a month and a half. She could see that he had a growth of stubble along his chin and jaw. The look made him more rugged and human. She couldn't recall a single moment where she had noticed that he had facial hair in her time spent with him. He never mentioned that he had to shave—perhaps he never had to until now. That thought surprised her more than it should have.

It was also strange to see him wearing a casual white tee and jeans. The shirt engulfed his frame, creating a loose, boxy shape around his lean form. The ratty belt at his waist bunched the jeans in an unflattering way. She could tell that he made an extra hole in the leather belt so it would fit him properly—one she recognized was her dad's. It dawned on her then. He had been borrowing her dad's old clothes this whole time.

Without warning, he turned around with two cups in his hands. She quickly looked away but mentally cursed at herself. He caught her staring at him. She knew it, and she knew he knew it. Blood rushed to her cheeks in a relentless wave. Before either of them could react, a familiar hissing sound filled the silence. She quickly took the kettle off the burner and poured the boiling water within a teapot. The routine of making tea did not distract her enough from feeling her roiling embarrassment.

"Rose?"

"Yes?" she said, feigning nonchalance while putting the apron back on the peg. The cool air clung to her midsection and she blanched. She was suddenly very aware of what she was wearing. Her black sports bra was revealing in its scooping neckline. Her black leggings clung to her like a second skin. A pink stripe emphasized the sleek planes of her legs. If she wasn't paying attention to his reaction so much, she wouldn't have noticed his eyes widening slightly. His gaze immediately averted hers as he shifted his stance.

"I was thinking that perhaps we could..." he paused. She watched as his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, trying to find the right words."Maybe have a little chat or something," he continued, "just you and me," he glanced up at her, "if you'd like."

The tone in his voice was telling—vulnerable and quiet. A small part of her mind she thought she buried at the beach a few weeks ago woke from its slumber. It was screaming at her to accept the invitation, to allow compassion to rule her. The more dominant side dug their heels and roared at her to refuse him at all costs. He's an impostor! He doesn't deserve the time of day! Rose opened her mouth to speak when—

"Oh, sweetheart, this looks lovely!"

Rose's neck snapped toward the entrance of the kitchen. The conflict within disintegrated immediately the moment her dad came in with his suitcase in hand. He was dressed in his suit, ready for work.

"Well, I was up already, thought I might as well," she smiled and her dad kissed her cheek in greeting.

"Thank you. I know your mum will appreciate it."

"I hope she'll be able to eat it while it's still hot," she said, eyeing the steaming plates.

"Well, she's busy getting Tony ready for nursery. Marie will pick him up soon," he said while taking a seat at the table. His eyes spotted John in the corner and he nodded to him in acknowledgement, "morning, John. You're up rather early, aren't you?" As Rose handed her dad his tea John grinned wryly.

"Can't sleep much. Haven't been really," he said.

Looking up from his tea, Pete hummed sympathetically, "that's no good, mate. Perhaps we can fix that. They've got loads of remedies for insomnia these days," he smiled.

"Not sure if I trust the legitimacy of Earth remedies," John said humorously, "though, the thought is appreciated."

"Well, you won't know if you don't try," Pete bantered kindly, "sit down and eat though. Don't want to waste this good-looking meal, right?" he suddenly lowered his voice, his tone playful, "can't say it'll happen again," he turned to wink at Rose.

"Hey," she said with a mock frown, "first off, I don't need to cook, and second, at least it's edible when I do!" she said with a triumphant smirk.

"We'll see about that," her dad laughed.

"Well, I made it especially inedible for you!" she teased. She set down the rest of the teas and took a seat next to her dad. Her dad continued to chat amiably to them, stuffing his mouth with eggs and toast. She sipped her tea, appreciating how the hot liquid warmed her insides. Pride swelled in her chest when she tried a taste of her cooking, not too bad if I say so myself!

John came around the table, passing Rose as he went. Her heart stilled at the brief proximity before he took a place across from her. Rose watched him as discreetly as she could from the corner of her eye. Her dad continued to chat about something about his work as they ate—well, all except John. He hadn't touched his food at all. Her brows furrowed as time continued to tick forward. Her dad was practically done with his meal as John sat there, staring at his food. Even she was halfway finished and he still hadn't touched his meal. Is he really that repulsed by my cooking? She thought while angrily stuffing her mouth with beans and toast.

Her dad had finished eating and patted his stomach in appreciation. He bid the two a good day, stating that he needed to head out to get to work on time. "Can't miss those blasted meetings!" her dad said, winking at them and wishing them farewell. He nodded at John before leaving the kitchen.

Without her dad's chatter, the silence once again crept uncomfortably over the two. Rose looked down at her lap, trying to appear occupied. Her ears perked at the sound of a clink of metal scraping wood. She looked up to see John with his fork in his hand. Relief followed by disappointment washed over her as he lazily pushed the fried egg around. Her hazel eyes narrowed.

"What? It doesn't taste as bad as it looks, if that's what you're worried about," she said before taking a swig of her tea. The cup clinked as she set it down with pursed lips.

"Wha?"

"It's fine, you don't have to eat it," she said, standing suddenly with her plate in her hand. She took her dad's plate and tucked it under hers. She then reached over the table to grab his plate but he pulled it out of her reach.

She sighed in exasperation, "are you going to eat it? Looks like you're not hungry," she said with one hand on her hip.

"I…sorry," he whispered, his eyes lowering as he pushed the plate toward her, "It looks lovely, believe me, I just haven't had an appetite lately."

She took the untouched plate and stacked it on her own without a word. She walked toward the dust bin and opened the top lid. The beans had grown mucus-like in texture as it cooled. It slid off the plate in an ungraceful slosh. Her irritation simmered as the egg and toast followed shortly after. Turning, she placed the plates in the sink and began to rinse them one by one.

"Could 'ave told me you weren't hungry then," she said while scrubbing her plate in vicious circles.

"Sorry… thought I could..." he said to her back.

"Well, you don't need to apologize, especially if you're honest about it in the first place," she said, slamming the dishes into the dishwasher. In the back of her mind,

she knew that her anger was taking control of her mouth, but she couldn't find a reason to stop. It felt too good.

She whirled around to dry her hands with a hand towel. He was staring at her, she could feel it. When their eyes met, she was shocked to see something akin to sympathy in his gaze. Her pride pricked. Sympathy for what? She didn't need his damn pity.

"What?" she demanded.

He seemed to reel at her tone, but composed himself quickly, "just looking at you," he said.

She didn't want to show how surprised she was at his answer. She scoffed instead, not knowing what else to do. She reached for the other untouched plates before she heard the telltale sound of footsteps. Sighing, she left them alone on the table as her mum waltzed in with Tony at her side. Relief lit Jackie's face at the sight of

the food on the table. Her arms opened up in a gesture of gratitude.

"God, you're a lifesaver!" her mum exclaimed kissing her on the cheek before sitting down next to John.

"Don't thank me quite yet. It's probably not as good cold," she warned as her mum dug in. Her brother clambered into his chair, his school uniform rumpling as he sat down.

"No worries, I could care less at the moment. I'm famished!" Jackie exclaimed dramatically.

"Rough morning?" John asked beside her.

Jackie looked at him, her eyes rolling, "You have no idea. This little pill doesn't like putting his uniform on," she pointed at her son from across from her. Tony sat obliviously to his mum's obvious frustration. His fork waved happily in the air and his cheeks puffed out with food.

"Mmwhere's Ruth?" Tony asked, his mouth still full.

"Swallow before you talk, darling," Jackie said.

"She's sick today so I made breakfast," Rose replied. She sat beside him, wiping his chin that was dribbling with beans.

"Why's sick?" he asked.

"Because people are sometimes," she said, trying to help him scoop the food into his mouth rather than on his jumper.

"Hey! I do it!" he protested angrily, waving his sister away with his fork, "I do it myself!"

"Tony!" Her mum snapped.

"S'all right mum. If he wants to, then let him be. Can't force him to do anything," she said, while standing.

"God, you're a mess," her mum sighed, looking at Tony with blatant exasperation. She quickly spotted her retreating form and called out, "And where are you going?"

"I'm gonna change," she gestured to her workout clothes, "I haven't showered and I probably smell atrocious."

Frowning, her mum sipped her lukewarm tea, "Well, alright then."

Rose picked up her yoga mat from where she placed it earlier. She gave a little wave,"'Kay, if you need anything—"

"Actually!" he mum said, looking toward John. Rose sighed while dread knotted in her stomach.

"Yeah, mum?"

"Are you doing anything today?" Jackie asked, mischief twinkling in her eyes. She did not like that look one bit. Her eyes narrowed warily.

"No… not really. Have the day off… why?"

"See, this belt on him," Jackie said, turning toward John, "it's so large. These trousers also look horrendous on him."

"Yeah, and?"

Her mum gave her a pointed look, "He needs a new wardrobe. Badly."

She stiffened, folding her arms. This was the last thing she needed right now. "It's been a few weeks. Why haven't you taken him?"

Jackie was about to open her mouth before John interrupted her, "I don't think we need to involve Rose in this."

To both of their dismay, Jackie waved him off, "Nonsense! Rose has the day off, I'm sure she has nothing better to do anyway."

"Nothing better?" her mouth gaped incredulously, "seriously, mum?"

"Of course I'm serious! We've been so busy getting this man set up for his life, we 'aven't been able to give him a proper wardrobe. The poor man is practically swimming in those awful clothes! He looks absolutely ridiculous!"

"Oi! I don't look that bad!" he exclaimed. Rose looked at him, shocked by his outburst. Was it so uncharacteristic of him to do so, though? She wondered.

"No offense," Jackie said, he shrugged and patted his tee down to make it appear better fitted.

"But, mum—"

"Look, my hands are tied right now. I really don't know when your father and I will be able to take him. I'll give you money, don't worry."

"I can always go myself. Or rather, not go at all. Perfectly fine with that," John said. Rose nodded in agreement, but her mum shook her head, giving her a sharp look.

"Thing is, Rose needs a dress for her dad's upcoming party. So, she'll need to shop for herself anyway."

"Wait, wha?" Rose balked, "Party? When? No one told me about this."

"This Saturday, dear."

"That's in three days!"

"Exactly why you should find something now. Your father is celebrating his 10th anniversary as the founder of his company. He wants you there, sweetheart. Haven't been able to tell you since you've been so busy lately," her mum frowned, "It'll be here. Just find yourself a lovely dress, and take this lot with you," she hooked a thumb beside her toward John. He made eye contact with her, his eyes attempting to speak to her, it's alright, you don't have to do this.

Dread made her pause for several seconds. She considered her options and thought back to the conversation she had with Martha. She knew the woman was being extremely generous for allowing her three months to figure out her relationship with the clone. She was glad Martha respected her that much at least. But now when the opportunity presented itself, all she wanted to do was shrink away and forget that the problem even existed. However, moments like this only proved that the problem would always be there until she confronted it. She had already wasted one month. She couldn't run away forever. _He could though,_ a voice sneered and she froze at the thought. _Yes, she agreed, he was always good at running... I learned from the best. Problem is..._

 _I don't have forever._

She rubbed her eyes in exasperation and sighed, "Alright. Alright, fine."

"Rose, it's fine," he said, but she put up a hand to cut him off.

"Mum's right," she shrugged, "need a new dress anyway. Don't have much in my closet since I was… busy." Looking for him.

"Thank you, sweetheart!" her mum beamed, reaching across the table to keep Tony from splattering egg all over his uniform.

"I'm going to take that shower now. We can leave after I'm done getting ready," she announced, more for John than anyone. Before she turned, he gave her a curious look—one she wasn't sure she could decipher. She thought nothing of it and left the kitchen. When she was finally alone, she looked toward the ceiling and mouthed a silent prayer to whoever was listening.

"Please… don't make me regret this."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** This is slightly shorter than the previous chapters (I'm still unused to writing really long chapters). I'm not sure why this was so hard to write. I know many of you dislike how Rose is acting/feeling right now. It's a work in progress. Just be patient. It gets better, I promise. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy/appreciate it for what it is. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Thank you :)

Disclaimer: I do not own this franchise. If I did, I hardly doubt I'd be writing sub-par fanfic about it... wait... who am I kidding? I probably would anyway xD

* * *

Slender fingers drummed against a steering wheel impatiently. Rose stared at the long trail of cars in front of her with dismay and frustration. The man sitting to her left sat quietly with his legs bouncing in place. Neither said a word. Neither looked at the other. The only sounds to be heard were the soft notes of the radio and the cacophonous drilling and hammering to their right. Various machines and construction workers littered the sight. They were forced to take yet another detour behind anxious drivers.

Men with orange hard hats and neon vests directed the pulleys and cranes to rid the various debris. The construction throughout the city had improved, but some buildings still lay in complete devastation. While she and a team from Torchwood had began their search for the Doctor, the city suffered from the unstable shift in their reality. Every time she came back, another chunk of the city was destroyed from bizarre natural disasters. At first, she thought that her trips between parallel realities was the cause of the chaos. All time dimensional travel was put to a halt before they found the true source of the oncoming darkness: Davros. The resources and money her family had protected them from most of the destruction. Those who didn't were left to face the raging devastation. Many perished. Many lost everything.

A pop song she'd heard a million times on the radio came on, grating her nerves. She quickly changed the station and two distinguished voices began to speak, "In other news, parts of South America are still devastated due to the Cyberman epidemic four years ago. Millions of lives were taken and the Ecuadorian government continues to struggle under the tragedy—"

She quickly leaned over and turned the radio off. The silence of it was deafening. Sitting back in her seat, she could feel his eyes staring at her face. She could feel a question burning on lips so she beat him to it, "I just can't right now."

"Ah," was all he said before falling into silence once more.

The drumming of her fingers on the wheel fell once again into beat with the bouncing of his legs. Several minutes passed. Time crawled to an unbearable pace. They came to a stoplight and she stopped accordingly. She nervously pushed her fingers through her damp hair, relishing in its cleanliness. It was a good distraction—better than squirming in her seat under the oppressive awkwardness. She wondered if the silence was just as uncomfortable for him as it was for her. His elbow was planted firmly against the edge of the open window. One hand supported his chin as his eyes stared straight ahead, glazed over in boredom. The breeze from outside ruffled his hair. It had grown a little longer in the past few weeks. With his new-found facial hair, Rose thought he was starting to look something akin to a lumberjack—especially in his white tee. His bare arms were hard to miss. Although slender, they seemed deceivingly strong, and hairy for that matter. Was he always this hairy? She hadn't seen so much skin on him before—

"It's green," he said quietly.

She blinked, looking up and seeing the green light glaring back at her. Nodding she directed the car forward. Just as they passed the intersection, a loud, roaring sound reverberated through the road. John perked up beside her. Her eyes widened as she looked in the mirror and saw a cabbie beeline in her direction. Before she could react, the cab came around and cut sharply in front of her. Her foot slammed on the brake, and an arm shot out in her direction. Her chest collided with the solid forearm before slamming back into her headrest. The car behind her blared their horn as their brakes squealed to a halt.

Her heart thundered in her rib cage. Her hazel eyes widened and glanced down at the arm that protected her. She looked at him and found his face straining out toward his open window.

"Oi, watch it!" he roared. His features scrunched in anger, his teeth bared at the screeching cab in front of them. Rose's eyes widened.

"You alright?" he asked, his brown eyes swept over her face as if to check for any injuries.

She nodded dumbly at him."You?"

"I'm fine," he said. Slowly, he released her from his protective grasp. The honking behind her jolted her back to reality. She tore her gaze from him and looked out toward the road again. No one was hit, everyone was okay. She pressed the gas and continued to drive toward their destination. She tried to shake off the feeling of… well, she didn't know what it was exactly. She decided she wouldn't think about it too much. Instead, she focused on the road and found that the silence had become more bearable.

* * *

"Henrik's?"

Rose turned to him, his face seemed to twist into amusement. His neck stretched to take in the entire building in front of them.

She nodded, "it's one of the only shops that're open." He laughed, and the sound brought her back to another time and place. The icy wall around her heart melted a little. It was so genuine—so him. God, she missed her Doctor.

"Of all the places," he chuckled, breaking the spell. She shook her head, her walls solidifying again. She said nothing as she led the way through the automatic revolving door. Once inside, she looked behind and gasped. His brows shot up as he swiftly passed her. She couldn't help but chuckle.

"Having fun?" she asked, allowing a grin to creep on her lips. She couldn't help it. It was so ridiculous.

"I'm stuck in a time loop!" He laughed as he went around and around the door two times. He waved humorously at her as he missed the exit yet a third time. By the fourth, Rose stepped forward when he came in around and grabbed his hand. She quickly pulled him out before he was caught in the never-ending loop.

"Thanks for that," he said grinning. For a moment she was tempted to give into that bright smile. He looked down and her eyes followed. Their hands were still joined.

Without a second thought, she released his hand and clutched hers as though she had touched a hot poker. She turned from him, her eyes looking everywhere and anywhere except him. The warmth of his hand still flashed hotly on her skin as she folded her arms to her side. Only a few seconds had passed but she felt like the awkwardness was swelling to a record breaking peak. God, I feel like I'm in a stupid teen novel, she thought bitterly while trying to recompose herself.

"Alright," Rose said nonchalantly, sweeping the store with her eyes, "let's just start with the basics." She didn't look at him as she continued forward.

"It's been a while," he murmured beside her, easily keeping in step with her strides.

"A while since wha?" she asked, her thoughts, however, were elsewhere as she grabbed a few tees from the racks. She picked out various patterns and sizes to be more efficient in their shopping. She stuffed them in his arms and continued in her search.

Readjusting his grip, he draped the clothing over both arms with a huff. He looked at some of her choices and put one away when he thought she wasn't looking.

"Well, since I've done this," he made a circular motion with his head to gesture his surroundings. She scoffed as she looked through a section of trousers. The hangers squeaked as she slid several aside to get a better look at one.

"I imagine you're right, too domestic?"

His head hung a little, "Well, perhaps a little," he admitted.

"Thought so," she muttered. From the corner of her eye she could see that his face had fallen with his frown. She tried to shake off the feeling of guilt before pulling a pair of khakis for him to see, "what do you think of these?"

His whole face seemed to scrunch in disapproval. "Not a fan," he shook his head and the hanger clinked against the the metal as she put it back.

"These?" she offered, presenting a pair of dark wash jeans. He hummed and hawed before finally nodding.

"Why not?" he shrugged.

"Good. Didn't really know if you'd try any of them," she said honestly.

"I've gotten used to wearing jeans, you know? They're actually quite comfy."

"Huh," she said more to fill in the gap of silence rather than acknowledging his statement. Her eyes continued to sweep along the racks. They stopped on a mannequin dressed in a maroon suit and black tie. She walked over and stopped at a table decked in folded ties. Her fingertips brushed against the fabric and she relished the soft, silky textures,"I suppose you'll be wanting a suit or two?"

He stopped beside her, adjusting his grip again. When she looked to him, he was eyeing the maroon-clad mannequin with furrowed brows, "Yeah… well, I can't impose on your mum, can I?"

"For a suit?" Rose scoffed, "Have you seen the place we live in? I think buying a suit is the least of our problems."

"It's not that, I'm just…" he looked down at the pile of clothes in his arms. After a beat he finally sighed, "oh… never mind," he muttered before nodding toward another mannequin, "how 'bout that one?"

"The brown one?"

"Yes, that one. Though, I suppose it's missing a few key details," he stood with his head slightly tilting each way to further examine the suit.

"The pinstripes," she said quietly recalling the image that was burned in her mind.

"Yes, exactly! Pinstripes! They're all missing out on the pinstripes," he rambled, getting closer to the mannequin, "it's not the right shade either. A little too light for me."

"How 'bout something different, then?" she suggested casually. She appeared to be occupied looking at belts and suspenders, but inside her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. The thought of him wearing his clothes hit a little too close to home for her liking. She tried to sway his attention elsewhere by pointing to a tweed blazer that was paired with a red bow tie.

He seemed to stop dead in his tracks to narrow his eyes at the mannequin. His lips pursed as he raised a brow in question at the form. "You like the bow tie?" he asked. She imagined if he hadn't had the pile of clothes in his arms, he'd be walking around with his hands on his hips or a finger to his lips.

She shrugged while leaning against the tie display, "Bow ties are cool. I guess it's up to you."

His mouth opened to speak before a man in a slim, gray suit approached them, "How are we doing over here? Do you need any assistance?" he asked.

"No, ah, we were just looking is all, thank you," John said to the man with a nod.

"Actually, we're trying to get this one a suit," Rose corrected, pushing her weight from off the tie display. John looked to her and then back at the man who approached them with apprehension.

"Uhh, sure! I stand corrected!" he said, grimacing a little.

"Excellent," the man clapped his hands together, "was there something you had in mind?"

"Well, ahhh…" his eyes shifted around before nodding toward a mannequin, "how about that one for starters?"

"Wonderful choice, sir. Tweed is very popular these days. I assume you are looking for a slim fit, then?"

"Slim fit—uhh…yeah, sure! Slim fit! Definitely. Just what I was looking for!" he smiled to the man before looking to Rose and shrugging.

"It's a fit that it more tailored to the body, sir," the man explained politely.

"Well, let's start with that, then!" he said

"If you want, you can try on something that you have before I bring in that suit for you?"

"Sounds excellent," John said with a smile.

"Wonderful! I'll be right back!" the shop worker said with a blinding, white smile. John returned it with ease, but it looked off to Rose. The man led them both toward the men's fitting room and offered them a shopping trolley to store their items. As John locked the door to his room, Rose waited on the couch they provided. The velvety texture was a nice touch, and it was better than standing. She pulled out her phone and checked for any text messages.

 **From Mum:**

 **Thank you, darling! Remember to be nice! Smiling doesn't hurt either ;)**

Rose sighed, and shook her head. She was talking to him, right? And cordially she might add. What else did she want from her? Another text caught her eye and she blanched.

 **From Martha:**

 **You have 2 months**

Her fingers worked furiously to text out:

 **Work in progress. Will talk to him soon.**

Rose stuffed her phone in her back pocket before letting out a sigh. Of course Martha was relentless in reminding her of her deadlines. She propped her elbow to cradle her chin in her hand. It wasn't long before she heard the door to the fitting room creak open.

He came out in the dark wash jeans she chose for him with a printed, collared shirt. The navy flowers were tiny and they spread across the entirety of the shirt in a flattering manner. She was secretly proud of herself for her choice and for guessing the right sizes. He pat down the shirt and shrugged his shoulders when they made eye contact.

"It's nice," he said, "very...umm, human."

"A bad thing, am I right?" she drawled sarcastically. Her arms folded over her chest as she looked him over with pursed lips.

"No, not at all. Just different," he said quickly. He turned to get a better look at another angle in the mirror and shrugged in defeat.

She raised a brow, "a good different? Or a bad one?"

He shook his head, "Neither. Just different." he echoed as he hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans.

"This is your wardrobe. You'll be wearing it, so it's up to you."

He sighed before taking a step back toward the dressing room, "To be frank, I don't honestly care much, Rose."

"What do you mean?" she asked hotly.

There was a pause before he opened his mouth to speak, "this doesn't really matter much to me—clothes, that is," he clarified, "This is really your mum's idea...So, yeah, I suppose this will do."

"She's just looking out for you," she countered.

"I know…" he looked away from her and sighed, "I know... I..." his mouth twisted into a frown as his forehead creased together in thought, "Look, this isn't easy, not for me, or for you. And believe me, your mum is lovely for helping me out but you should know that this isn't in my area of expertise nor my field of interest. Right?" You would know, was the unspoken message that Rose heard loud and clear. She frowned and his brown eyes grew sad, "at least understand that."

Something in her heart twinged. Her gut felt heavier and heavier the longer he looked at her with those sad, brown eyes. Her throat tightened but she quickly attempted to steel herself. Just as she was about to reply, the shop worker came back in with the suit splayed in his arms.

"You ready for me?" he chirped happily to them. Rose was grateful for his sudden presence and nodded.

"He's ready," she said quickly.

"Wonderful, I'll put the suit hanging in your fitting room here," his voice was slightly muffled as he placed the suit on a hook in the room. He emerged with a smile, "if you have any questions, just let me know!"

John nodded toward the shop worker, "thanks mate," he said before entering the fitting room again. She could hear him rummaging around and undressing. As he did so, a mixture of sympathy and frustration seemed to fight for Rose's attention. The battle would have continued to rage in her chest until she shoved the it to the back of her mind. She took a deep breath, and attempted to calm herself down. She decided to pretend the past two minute conversation didn't exist and to start over again.

After several minutes, he stepped out, hands patting down his trousers in a nervous manner. He looked up and paused with his arms spread out.

"Well?"

"Well, look in the mirror. Tell me what you think," she said more cordially this time. She nodded toward the platform where three tall mirrors stood. He stepped up and craned his neck to see the full 180 degree effect. His mouth dipped into a frown as he posed in different angles. His fingers came up to the bow tie and adjusted it better on his neck.

"Nah," he made a face in the mirror, "it's not quite me."

Rose nodded, "it's not, but it does look nice. I'm a fan of the bow tie."

"Really?" he asked, his pitch rising with his eyebrows, "well… perhaps in a different life," he shrugged.

 _Except, you don't have another one_ , she thought despite of herself. _So much for 'staring over' and being cordial._ Keeping her personal feelings out of this was a lot harder than she anticipated.

A loud clap made the two direct their gaze toward the shop worker. "Very excellent choice sir!" he said, looking John up and down, "How do you feel?"

"Well," he drawled, "it's just not my style."

"No worries, sir! How about I put you in something else? Perhaps a warm, chocolate color—?"

"No!"

John and the shop worker both looked at her in confusion. She covered her mouth in embarrassment for her outburst, but she couldn't help it. It was still too soon. She had just pushed all those feelings back and she couldn't afford for them to rear their ugly head back in the limelight.

She cleared her throat, "I mean… brown is such a drab color, right? Why not something more traditional? Black? Gray?" she suggested.

"Oh," the shop worker looked to John with furrowed brows before stuttering, "O-of course! Let me pull some options for you. Give me a moment." As he quickly made his exit Rose pushed a stray strand from her face. She ignored the awkward silence that once again settled over them. When she looked up, she was surprised to see John staring straight at her, unabashed. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. She had to look away.

"Not a fan of a brown suit?" Something in the tone surprised her—something akin to sarcasm.

"What?"

"You never complained about that choice of wardrobe before," he said simply, turning toward the mirror and adjusting his bow tie again.

"It was different before, the wardrobe…the..." she held her breath before saying what she always wanted to say to him for the past month and a half, "the man." A beat passed. She finally exhaled, satisfied with how the words finally rolled off her tongue.

He finally turned to her, his eyes softening, "yes. Yes, it was very different, in more ways than one. But... I don't think it was just me."

She frowned, "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm not the only one who's changed, Rose."

Her eyes widened slightly at his boldness. It took her a moment to think of what to say. _Should we be having this conversation right now?_ She sighed.

"You're right. I have changed. I've changed a lot, John. I'm twenty-three years old for one. I've seen a lot… done a lot—a lot of things I'm not proud of, and it changes you. I'm not the same shop girl you met four years ago. I grew up."

The sullen look almost broke her, "I know."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I'm sorry that it's been awhile since I last posted a chapter. Starting another semester of college has been a little hectic to say the least. I wish I could write as often as I do homework. I hope you enjoy. Also, for those who have stuck around since the beginning, I have made small changes in the previous chapters. They're minor, but I hope it helps to enhance the story.

Disclaimer: Flashbacks/script are from The Unquiet dead and School Reunion

* * *

"What do you think?"

The woman moved to reveal a vanity mirror behind her. Rose blinked at the image-her image-in the mirror. She watched as her mauve-pink lips opened in surprise. She moved her head, to and fro, admiring the way the light reflected off her cheekbones. She would have to give the woman a medal for her work because she completely covered that stubborn pimple on her forehead and jawline. Her skin looked radiant and flawless. The green in her hazel eyes popped with the gold and chocolate accents on her lids. The winged liner, and false lashes made her eyes look sharp and almond-like. Her blonde hair framed her face in gentle, soft curls.

"It looks beautiful," she said, smiling at the tan woman.

"No, you look beautiful. You are a beautiful… umm, what they call it? Picture?" she asked. Rose could barely make out her thick, latin accent. She barely remembered where the woman said she was from. Brazil, maybe? Maybe Ecuador.

"Canvas, I think. Yeah, that sounds about right," Rose smiled, "Thank you, Alondra."

"It's a pleasure of mine," the woman smiled warmly back. As she gathered her things to leave, Rose continued to admire her reflection. Her eyes continued to sweep across her features before glancing at an object behind her.

The dress hung on a hook on the door. The soft silky texture glimmered under her fluorescent lights. There was a flattering ruching at the bust and smooth, off the shoulder sleeves that barely clung to the hanger. It reminded her of another dress she wore once upon a time when her Doctor still had his northern accent.

T _here they were, on the floor of the TARDIS, laughing like old friends. She looked at him, and he at her, their eyes crinkling in their smiles. For someone she barely knew, a stranger by all accounts, she felt at home with the man beside her. They clambered up and he went about looking at all the funny gadgets and wires on his TARDIS._

 _"I did it!" he announced, "Give the man a medal. Earth, Naples, December 24th, 1860."_

 _"That's so weird," she said, a little dazed, "It's Christmas."_

 _"All yours," he spread out his arm toward the doors, and she truly believed him. It was all hers. She looked down for a moment, her mind processing the situation carefully. Her brows furrowed in thought._

 _"But, it's like, think about it, though. Christmas. 1860. Happens once, just once and it's gone, it's finished, it'll never happen again," she paused, in awe, "Except for you. You can go back and see days that are dead and gone a hundred thousand sunsets ago. No wonder you never stay still."_

 _"Not a bad life," he admitted._

 _"Better with two," she smiled cheekily, "Come on, then," she bounded toward the doors with a spring in her step._

 _"Hey, where do you think you're going?" he called and she turned to him, arms out._

 _"1860!"_

 _"Go out there dressed like that, you'll start a riot, Barbarella," he scolded and her eyes grew wide, "There's a wardrobe through there. First left, second right, third on the left, go straight ahead, under the stairs, past the bins, fifth door on your left. Hurry up!" She barely comprehend the directions he gave, but she did as she was told and hurried down her first left._

 _Rose stepped out, her heels clacking against the grated floor as she approached the Doctor. He looked up, their eyes met._

 _"Blimey!"_

 _"Don't laugh," she smiled in spite of herself and looked down to avoid his piercing gaze. She felt foolish for coming out with that cape around her shoulders and that feathery headpiece protruding from her hair. She bit her lip, hoping that she managed not to make an arse of herself._

 _"You look beautiful."_

 _Hazel eyes flew up to meet his blue ones again. Her heart did a weird skip and something fluttered in her stomach at the way his voice lingered on the word._

 _"Considering," he finished pointedly before ducking down and tinkering with, well, Rose wasn't sure what it was exactly. The flip flop of her stomach died, but her heart secretly held onto the memory._

 _"Considering what?" she demanded with a hand at her hip._

 _"That you're human..."_

Rose blinked as the memory slowly faded from her mind. Funny, she thought rather critically, look who's human now. She looked back at her reflection in forlorn resignation. Sometimes it felt like a century had passed since those days of traveling with her Doctor happened. Other times, it felt like it was only yesterday that she was hearing his northern voice and smiling into his deep, blue, gray eyes. She'd been thinking about that a lot lately-about her Doctor.

Memories seemed to visit her daydreams like a reoccurring fling. She thought about how simple and yet complex the world was when she was around him. The universe was so vast and yet so small. She would always be grateful for her Doctor for teaching her about the wonders of the world. She learned a lot from him… too much. She should have been paying attention, though. One lesson she thought she should've learned a long time ago was that the Doctor ends up leaving everyone behind.

She was no exception.

She should have trusted her gut the moment she met Sarah Jane Smith. Perhaps that's what he was always intending from the start-to leave her stranded in the middle of nowhere like her. Perhaps she was just another Sarah Jane, or another Martha Jones… perhaps Donna Noble would be next. What were they to him? Were they just as special? Hell, if she could even consider herself "special" anymore. That kind of arrogance was swallowed with the harsh pill of reality the moment he left her on that beach for a second time. Humility was unforgiving as it was painful.

She and the Doctor have had this conversation before. Perhaps she should have been taking notes.

 _"How many of us have there been travelling with you?" She asked the Doctor, wavering in her step beside him._

 _"Does it matter?" he dismissed airily. She wanted to scream at his arrogance._

 _"Yeah, it does, if I'm just the latest in a long line," she said._

 _"As opposed to what?" he asked, accosting her with his exasperation._

 _This caught her off guard. "I thought you and me were…" were what? What is it you want Rose?_

 _Him. I want him._

 _"I obviously got it wrong," she continued, "I've been to the year five billion, right, but this? Now this is really seeing the future. You just leave us behind. Is that what you're going to do to me?"_

 _He stopped, and looked her in the eyes, "No. Not to you." He said it so genuinely that she was tempted to believe him. But somewhere in the back of her mind, her head was screaming: Liar! Liar! LIAR!_

 _"But Sarah Jane?" she countered quickly, "You were that close to her once, and now you never even mention her. Why not?"_

 _He looked at her solemnly, "I don't age. I regenerate. But humans decay. You wither and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone who you…"_

 _She held her breath, "What, Doctor?"_

 _"You can spend the rest of your life with me, but I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on. Alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords."_

Rose shook her head. Her chest began to fill with neglected emotion. But all she could do was scoff. Curse of the Time Lords? More like curse of the companions! She thought bitterly, as her mind continued racing through the memory.

 _"What do I do? Do I stay with him?" she had implored Sarah Jane later that day._

 _The older woman simply nodded and smiled in a way that looked painful, "Yes. Some things are worth getting your heart broken for..."_

Looking back, however, Rose couldn't say with confidence that it was all worth it. Was it worth getting her heart broken over and over again? Was his arrogance worth the thrilling adventure? Was it worth being stuck in a strange world she could never escape from? She used to be sure of it-sure that it all meant something. Now… she just didn't know.

She stood, slowly pushing her chair in before standing before the sage, green gown. Folding her arms, she regarded the dress with vague apprehension. She nearly paid double for the overnight shipping fee. Rose only hoped that the dress would fit properly. She never did finish shopping for herself with John. After the small confrontation they had at Henrick's, the conversation had become non existent. He didn't even finish trying on all the clothes they had picked, rather, he chose a few items at random and called it a day. They left the store with a few bags and a heavy, unsettling silence.

That was three days ago. She hadn't seen him since. This time, however, it wasn't intentional on her part. After work, she would come home and play with her little brother or eat dinner with her family. And yet, there was no sign of John. She figured that he was doing… something. He was fine. At least, that's what her parents told her. But if she were honest with herself, she was slightly concerned with his absence.

As much as she wanted to hate him, her anger was starting to shift toward the original source.

She glanced at a clock on the wall: 7:00 pm. Rose moved to take the dress off the hanger. She shed her clothes and slipped the gown over her body.

From the balcony, Rose felt as though she was looking over a sea of people. Her mind atmosphere was alive, and busy. It seemed as though hundreds of people swarmed the halls of her home. All were dressed in fine tuxedos or long, swaying gowns. Many couples meandered in and out, arm in arm, while others chattered pleasantly over the hors d'oeuvres that were being offered. Professional musicians played delicate pieces over the buzzing crowd. The music flitted through her ears and around her muddled thoughts. Her hand hesitated over the railing. How long had it been since she was at a social gathering like this? It was too formal-too stuffy for her liking. Once upon a time she might have dreamed to get dressed up and go to a party like this. Last time she had been to one was in this very home. It was a long time ago when she was still traveling with her Doctor. She had been dressed as a maid then and was angry that the Doctor could play dress up and she couldn't. Times had changed.

Her eyes swept over each guest, attempting to find any familiar faces. It didn't take too long to spot her parents. Her mum stood by her father's side in a glittering gold and black gown. Her hand was intertwined with her husband's as they chatted amiably to their guests. Her mum looked absolutely lovely with her hair done up and her makeup professionally done. Rose noticed especially how her blue eyes lit up as she smiled and nodded in the conversation. She looked radiant-happy even.

Her mum hadn't always been this happy. It was odd to think that only a few years ago it was just the two of them sharing a small flat together. Her mum always provided for them, but she always aspired for something more-something she could never attain. But now... Now she has it all. She got everything she's ever wanted-a rich husband, and a complete family.

Rose frowned at the thought. It should have comforted her to know that her mum was so happy. Deep inside, Rose couldn't help but feel slightly envious. It seemed as though her mum benefited off of her misfortunes. Had she not been separated from her Doctor, her mum wouldn't have been reunited with her husband. She wouldn't have had Tony, or any of the luxuries she could enjoy today. She just wished she could claim some of that happiness too.

As she descended, her eyes scanned the faces that passed her. She could feel some of their own gazes on her as she made her way through the crowd. It wasn't until she drifted toward her mum's side that a thought crossed her mind. Just as she was about to speak, her mum turned and gasped.

"Oh, Rose! Darling, you look lovely!" her mum exclaimed, taking in her appearance, "absolutely stunning! Come, here, come meet some guests. They're your father's patronages-very important-and they've insisted they meet you!" Her wrist was suddenly caught in her mum's grasp like an iron clasp.

"Mum, please?" she begged, but there was no escape as her heels clacked to keep up with her. She was suddenly pushed to the front and center of a small group of people.

Her mum cleared her throat in a dramatic fashion which drew attention from the small crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen, my daughter, Rose Tyler," she gestured toward her daughter, her smile beaming proudly.

Rose stood stiffly as the strange pairs of eyes examined her. She felt like an alien being put on display. Their small smiles were polite, but calculated. Rose pushed her nerves aside and mustered the confidence to look them back in the eye, "pleased to meet you," she nodded.

"Yes, a pleasure!" A gentleman piped, and his, she assumed wife, nodded as well before they continued their previous conversations.

"You have a beautiful daughter, Mrs. Tyler," another younger man said, swirling his champagne glass lazily in his hand. His voice was smooth and rich with an accent lacing his words. It sounded familiar to her, but couldn't put her finger on where she heard it before. His eyes seemed friendly as he smiled at her. The brightness of his white teeth was a stark contrast to his tan skin.

"Isn't she lovely?" her mum smiled. The man nodded in agreement, a few of his dark, slick curls bobbed with the motion.

"Yes, it's a mystery to me as to how you kept her away from the limelight all these years? I don't believe we knew you had any children until recently?" He looked at her again with a curious stare.

"Oh, Rose had been away at boarding school. Her privacy and education were very important to us," her mum explained smoothly, as though she practiced it a hundred times.

The man hummed in return, "I see." Rose stood uneasily under his gaze.

"Aren't you one of our benefactors from Brazil?" her mum cut in to change the conversation.

"Ecuador," he corrected politely.

"Yes, that's right. Ecuador! So many places, it's hard for me to keep up," her mum laughed. Rose winced at how strained it sounded.

"No worries, Mrs. Tyler. Ecuador is proud to be in business with your husband," he said smoothly.

"We are happy to have you here," her mum smiled.

He nodded politely, "would you point me as to where he is? I would actually like to speak with him if he isn't swarmed by other patronages," he smiled humorously.

"Oh, yes, he's right over…" Jackie strained to look behind her to find her husband, "right over there! Yes! There he is! Can't miss him!"

"Very good," he looked to them both and returned the smile, "thank you. Also, excuse my manners. My name is Luis Martillo," he extended a hand, to which Rose accepted and expected a simple handshake. He surprised her by kissing the back of her hand with endearing gentleness. Her eyes widened as she retracted her hand from him. He shrugged the gesture off with ease, standing once more with confidence.

"A pleasure to meet you," she murmured.

"The pleasure is mine," he said. He nodded to them both before making his way through the crowd. Rose exhaled, surprised that she was holding her breath that long. She looked to her mum, who looked back with a brow raised in question.

"What?" her mum asked.

"Nothing… just… it's nothing," Rose shook her head. She looked out toward the crowd with apprehension and folded her arms, "I don't have to talk to all of them, do I?"

"Not all of them, no," she said while grabbing a champagne glass from one of the serving trays that came around on a silver platter. She took a swig, "but I do."

"Thought you were enjoying this?" Rose asked.

"Well, it's all fun until you realize that you're supposed to have the memories of a dead woman," she shook her head, "Too many 'remember when we went jet skiing, Jackie?', or 'remember when we used to have brunch in Spain, Jackie?'. God, I can't keep up with everyone." Her mum drank the rest of the champagne in two gulps.

"Oh… yeah," Rose whispered, her mind suddenly racing with the revelation. She hadn't ever thought of it that way before. Memories of the Jackie she met in this world came flooding to her mind. The woman looked and almost acted like her mum, but it was definitely not her mother she knew and loved. She felt terrible that the woman suffered before she died. She shuddered to think of how empty and cold it must have felt to have her mind transferred into a hulking, metal suit. But, now her mum was here… She took that dead woman's place. It was so easy. All she had to do was marry the widower that looked like her dead husband…

That looked like her dead father...

 _Oh God._

"Sweetie, are you alright?"

Rose blinked rapidly before shaking her head, "yeah… yeah I'm alright."

"You look like you saw a ghost or something! You're so pale!" her mum reached out to touch her forehead, "you're not sick are you?"

She gently removed her mum's hand from her face, "no, I'm not sick… I just need to… I don't know, I just need to go or something."

Her mum's eyes widened, "Now? Sweetie, what's wrong? You can't leave now. This is important."

"I know... I," she began to look around her, trying to think of any excuse. Only one face came to mind and she blurted it out before she could think of another alternative, "John! Where's John? I'll go find him."

"John?" her mum's brows raised in surprise, "you...want to go looking for John?"

"Yes, umm, I just haven't seen him and I thought he was invited?" she said quickly, feeling overwhelmingly claustrophobic all of a sudden.

"Well, he was, but I hardly doubt he's coming," she said, putting her empty champagne glass on another platter that a server was passing to guests.

"Why not?" she asked, concern slowly taking over the panic that had gripped her.

"He's just a little bent out of shape, you know?"

Rose looked at her, confused. She nodded in understanding, "guess you wouldn't know, but I don't blame you," she clarified, "he's just been tinkering down in that basement for the past few days. I tried to coax him out, but he won't budge," her mum shrugged. "I even put food at his door a couple of times but it doesn't look like he's touched it. I'm not sure what else I can really do for him, you know?" Rose gaped.

Her mum sighed, grabbing another passing champagne,"I was going to check on him later on, but if you want to, be my guest. Perhaps he'll listen to you," she nodded her glass toward her before draining it entirely. Rose stood, a little stunned.

Jackie stepped forward and touched her arm, "Good luck… wish me luck too. I'm going to need it," she said before going out into the crowd.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** It's been well over a year since I last updated. Life got in the way-I got married, graduated from school, and other life-altering events have happened. To those who are still interested in this story, I applaud you.

I do not have a beta reader so this will inevitably be filled with mistakes. To add insult to injury, it's a very short chapter. I apologize but I thought I should still get it out there regardless.

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

The floorboard creaked under her weight. She froze, her hand clutched the railing tightly as her foot hovered over the next step. Her heart pounded at the thought of her descent. There was a faint, blue glow that was flickering erratically from the door at the end of the stairs. It was slightly open, creating a cast of blue tendrils that painted the adjacent wall. The light disappeared, and a sharp pounding ensued. That was quickly replaced once more by the flickering blue light.

Rose felt her nerves grip her. What was she doing here? She couldn't just barge in and come in unannounced-uninvited. What would he think? What would she say? Her throat grew dry at the thought. Rose glanced over her bare shoulder toward the stream of white light behind her. Its glow whispered promises of comfort; a stark contrast to the darkness with snaking blue tendrils before her. The hum of the crowd and soft lilt of music caressed her ears. It would be so easy to turn back now.

The railing she clutched grew slick under her sweaty hand. The other reached for the light switch and soon the path before her was lit. The stairs didn't look as intimidating as they did seconds before. Courage pushed her forward as she descended with clicking heels.

Her heart sank, however, at seeing the untouched platters of food around his door. She took another step forward, her curiosity leading her toward the glowing door with its strange noises. Slender fingers found the edge of the door and pulled it as quietly as she could. She attempted to peek through the space and her eyes widened.

His back was facing her, the grooves of his spine were pronounced through his white tee as he hunched over a metal workbench. A dim light bulb swung above him, barely giving her eyes a chance to adjust before a blaze of sparks lit up his workspace. A small blowlamp was in his grasp as he cut through a metal sheet. Her eyes immediately closed tightly. She could almost feel the abrasive light scorching her eyes from behind her lids. As soon as she heard him turn the blowlamp off and put it aside, she saw her chance.

She stepped inside the room and reached for the light switch.

Bright, fluorescent lights flickered to life and she saw his body jump in surprise. An object flew from his hand and clattered to the ground. The momentum of the fall forced the item to skitter toward her direction. Her heart hammered in her chest as she stopped the object in its track with her foot. Quickly, she bent to pick up the metal-looking object while guilt and regret drummed in her chest. She looked down at the thin, metal… thing and her brows furrowed. It almost looks like a...

Before she could even finish her thought, a hand shot out and grabbed the object out of her hands. Her heart stuttered at the brash contact and she instinctively took a step backwards. She didn't even see him coming.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she said, attempting to fix the fact that she was even there but he was already stepping backwards while clutching the object in his hands possessively. She was taken aback by this. His face was covered by a silver helmet with a black, rectangular slit where eyes should be. Heavy gloves reached for it and pulled the helmet back revealing wide, confused eyes. The shock of his appearance rendered her speechless. His face looked harsh and gaunt under the shadows of the helmet pulled over his head. His scruff was longer and extended down his neck. His eyes looked swollen and bloodshot as though he had not slept in days. It perturbed her.

Her eyes focused back on the metal object in his hands, "what is that?" she asked.

"It's nothing," his voice cracked as though his vocal cords were weak and unused. He turned his back on her and placed the object on the table. However, this only piqued her curiosity even more.

"Why does that look like a…" she stood on tiptoe and leaned to the left to try and see the metal thing on the table. "Like a…" her eyes widened and her mouth grew slack with the sudden revelation, "sonic screwdriver?"

He grabbed what looked like a tarp on the table and quickly hid the object from her view entirely. She immediately sat back on her heels while confusion filled her eyes.

"Are you making a sonic screwdriver?" She asked slowly.

He turned to her but avoided her gaze. His head hung so low, she swore his chin was touching his chest. When he did not say anything for several seconds she took a step towards him, "John?" She asked softly.

His hands clenched at his side, "it's not a sonic screwdriver," he said. His voice was so quiet that it took a moment for her to register what he had said.

"Then why does it-?"

"Because I was trying to make one!" he barked suddenly. His head snapped up and his eyes burned through her, "I am trying to make one knowing full well that the technology available on this godforsaken planet is hopelessly archaic! However, it isn't a sonic screwdriver because it doesn't work, Rose! It doesn't work because the technology I need would have been located in a binary star system 250 million light years from our Earth. And even then, Gallifrey is gone. It's gone. It doesn't exist in this dimension and it doesn't exist in the one that we came from. Does that answer your question?"

They stared at each other. He seemed to loom over her despite his frail-looking frame. She stood wide-eyed with her heart trembling in her chest. Silence overwhelmed them both and he finally looked away from her.

She shook her head as though she were trying to wake herself up from an awful spell. She hadn't expected that response from him. She hadn't expected him to be so sharp and bitter. _But, oh my God, I had no idea_ , she thought to herself incredulously _, he's been trying to… get his old life back… he just wants things to be like they used to be… like me..._

Despite the shock and hurt that had initially gripped her, she looked up at him sadly.

"Please… don't… don't do that," he said, looking away while backing up from her. His voice sounded so small in contrast to his cutting tone just seconds before.

"Do what?" she asked.

He gestured to her face, "that… that look. I… I don't-I mean, I can't stand that look from you right now, or ever really," he said quickly and wrung his hands in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked suddenly, "I thought that you were at your father's-"

"I was," she admitted sheepishly.

His brows furrowed, "then why are you down here and not up there?"

"Well," she said, not able to look him in the eye, "I was looking for you. I wanted to see if you were okay. Mum told me that you weren't eating."

Silence.

Her gut clenched. Her skin seared with embarrassment. This was a mistake. She finally glanced up to meet his eyes. He was already staring at her.

"Why?" he asked in a whisper. His brows furrowed again and she swore that she could see a slight tremor run down his hands.

"Why ...what? Why am I checking up on you or-?"

"Why do you care, Rose?" he cut in, throwing his hands up in emphasis, "why after all this time do you care about me now?"

She blinked in surprise while hurt ran its icy course through her chest. It hurt to think that he was right after all. Why did she care all of a sudden? Was it because she finally realized that she was being a hypocritical git for quickly accepting the presence and fatherly influence of a man who wasn't her father? Or was it when she realized that she had no qualms about her mother replacing a dead woman's shoes and happily marrying a man that resembled her deceased husband? Was it only now that she realized that John was a human being and deserved a little bit more respect or courtesy? Or did the realization come when she understood that her Doctor was to blame for all of the catastrophic disasters in her life and not the man before her? Regardless, she shouldn't have come here. She was stupid enough to think that somehow she could relay these complicated thoughts to him after treating him like shit. _What a stupid twat you are, Rose Tyler!_

She shook her head and sighed, "sorry, you're right. Just thought I'd apologize though. Hope you can forgive a prat like me," she gave a small nervous laugh before turning to leave.

In a perfect fictional world, she imagined that he would reach out and stop her and plead for her to not go. His brown eyes would implore her to stay and that all was forgiven. They would come to an understanding of sorts and maybe shake hands and start over. However, they did not live in that fantasy world. He did not stop her. He didn't say a word. She closed the door behind her with her heart sinking heavily in her stomach.

 _What did you expect?_

"I don't know," she whispered to herself.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Two chapters in one week! I hope that sort of makes up for the year that I was missing. It's still another short chapter though, but I feel like I do way better in short increments. If anyone has any advice on how to write longer, engaging chapter,s please message me. I just feel like my longer chapters dragged too much. ALso, I again apologize for any grammatical errors.

Hope you enjoy!

 **Disclaimer alert-** Flashback uses script from the episode "Father's Day" from DW of course.

* * *

Rose made the slow trek back up the stairs. Her feet felt like lead as she trudged back to the main floor like a scolded child. She rounded a corner and the hum of the party grew louder as she continued solemnly down the hallway. However, a pair of voices caught her attention above the gregarious clamour.

At first, the voices were muddled due to distance, but soon they became clearer and clearer. She found it strange that they were headed toward this part of the manor when they had security sectioning off this part of the house. Her apprehension piqued when one of the voices became more familiar.

"This way, follow me," she heard the voice of her father say.

"Very well," another voice replied. She stopped in her tracks as the two men came around the corner. Her father jumped a little, but the other only looked agitated by her presence. Her brows furrowed when she recognized the man that she had met earlier that evening. _What was his name again? I think it started with an E? No, no… an L for sure…_

"Will this be problematic?" the man asked.

Her father shook his head quickly, almost anxiously, "no, no… Luis," he raised his hands as though to placate the man, "I think everything should still be fine."

"Dad?" she asked warily, eyeing them both suspiciously.

"Rose! Love," her father seemed to fumble over the words too quickly before he approached her further. The lines in his forehead seemed to crease further in his skull as he rounded on her. She could barely comprehend what he was doing before he grabbed both of her shoulders.

"Go back to the party and find your mum. I have some business I have to take care of," he said but suddenly leaned in close to her ear, "I love you. Tell your mum and Tony that I love them too." As he retreated, she noticed how his lips dipped into a frown and his eyes were slightly misted.

Rose knew this scene felt all too familiar. An awful wave of deja-vu washed over her. It was like the day she tried to save her dad-her real dad-many years ago.

* * *

 _Her dad stood before her while shimmying into his suit jacket,"the car that should have killed me, love. It's here. The Doctor worked it out way back, but he, er, he tried to protect me," he flattened out his shirt and tie with nervous conviction, "Still, he's not in charge anymore. I am."_

" _But you can't," she choked, her eyes fluttering from the tears that threatened to spill._

" _Who am I, love?" he reached to touch her cheek and her face scrunched with bitter-sweet emotion._

" _My daddy," she whispered._

 _Her mind skipped through the memory quickly before remembering one of the last things he said to her._

" _I never read you those bedtime stories. I never took you on those picnics. I was never there for you."_

" _You would have been," she said._

" _But I can do this for you. I can be a proper dad to you now."_

" _But it's not fair," she cried._

" _I've had all these extra hours. No one else in the world has ever had that. And on top of that, I got to see you," he reached for her cheek again, "and you're beautiful. How lucky am I, eh? So, come on, do as your dad says," he said, straightening out. She reluctantly reached for the vase behind her before giving it to him. Her heart felt like shattering. "You going to be there for me, love?" he asked and she nodded, "thanks for saving me," he reached for her and gave her a big hug. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she held onto him for the first and only time._

* * *

Her dad's touch brought her back to the present. Pete's hands trembled when he squeezed her shoulder, "come on, do as your dad says," he finished with a quivering smile. She stared at him in horror as the memory of those same words came back to haunt her.

"Let's talk over here," her dad said suddenly to the man while gesturing forward. He turned back to her and gave her a tight lipped grin. He began to walk past her with the man at his heels.

She felt her pulse quicken and her breathing became more shallow. She recognized that panic was commandeering every nerve in her body. She didn't know why she felt like she was losing her dad all over again.

 _He's just going to_ _ **talk**_ _to someone for God's sake!_ She berated herself. _How irrational can you be? Paranoid, much, Rose?_ However, she couldn't help but ask: was it her anxiety and PTSD that were hijacking her mind or did she have a legitimate reason to be concerned? It was driving her mad.

"Dad… wait!"

He stopped and turned back to her, "Just some business, love, I promise. Nothing to worry about," her dad said quickly while backing up from her, "you going to be there for me when I come back, love?" he smiled. She could only nod dumbly. "Good," he said, "alright, let's go then." The man-Luis-followed him but not before eyeing her suspiciously.

She was about to protest again before she heard a blood-curdling scream. Her heart jumped, and her body grew stiff. Her eyes sought her father's but found that he and the man were walking briskly in the opposite direction. She wanted to call out to him, beg him to stop but the sound of screaming grew into a chorus of shrieks. She had to make a choice.

"Shit."

She quickly kicked off her heels and picked up the train of her dress, "shit, shit, shit…" she swore as she bolted toward the source of screaming.

She paused as soon as she reached the ballroom. She blinked, attempting to make sense of the scene. A crowd was gathering in front of the windows. Many women held their hands to their mouths with eyes wide with terror. Rose approached and pushed her way to the front.

"Hey!" a man hissed when she accidentally stepped on his foot. She didn't offer an apology; her eyes were glued to the large windows that revealed the front of the manor outside.

"Oh my God."

A car was on fire! It was rolling slowly into the driveway and toward the manor. Flames flickered and lapped up the interior. Hot yellow and orange tendrils danced and leapt out of the open widows. The contrast of the darkness and the light from the burning vehicle created an eery, hypnotizing glow. It rolled so close that she could read the license plate from where she stood. However, she forced herself to look closely for details-anything out of the ordinary-

Her eyes widened.

There in the midst of the flames, was a timer plastered to the front of the car.

"Everyone, backup! BACKUP NOW!" she screamed. She turned towards the crowd and saw their faces become confused. Some started to back up but many held their ground. "Did you not hear me? BACK AWAY FROM THE WINDOWS!"

"You heard my daughter!" Rose heard her mother say. She made eye contact with her from the back of the crowd and nodded to her in appreciation. Jackie began pulling at a man's arm, "She said, MOVE!"

Rose opened her arms up and made a "swooshing" movement. The crowd finally got the hint and started to run toward the back of the room. Rose turned toward the window and saw the timer was down to five seconds.

"RUN!" She shouted.

She started to bolt from the window but it was too late.

There was a blinding flash-like hot lightning-before a huge ball of flames burst and belched outward with terrifying vengeance. The windows didn't stand a chance. They rattled with feverish complaint until they exploded on impact. A whistle of splinters and shattering glass deafened the room. Rose was hurled forward and rolled several feet over broken glass. She yelped in pain as each shard carved and sliced her skin. Smoke and fire spit with hot fury. Flames quickly lapped up the remaining curtains hanging by a thread.

Her face was flat on the marble floor, which had an odd cooling touch, all things considered. However, a piercing ring consumed her mind and shred her rationale to pieces. Her eyes were unable to focus-the whole world was spinning. She tried to blink away the dizziness but found that doing so made everything around her whirl faster. She attempted to move but each limb seemed to yelp with hot, searing pain. She left them alone and allowed the darkness that kept playing "peek-a-boo" with her eyes to finally win over.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** New readers: Hello and enjoy!

Followers and old readers: Chapter 9 was deleted and then reuploaded. Yes, it has been rewritten. Why? Because I didn't like it and felt like it needs to go in a slightly different direction. I apologize for the confusion. I know it's a gutsy move and I hope that this doesn't upset anyone who liked the original chapter. I thought that changing the chapter would be better for the overall plot. It won't happen again, I promise.

* * *

"Rose!"

Rose's eyes twitched under her lids. There was so many noises competing for her attention. She could barely make out the voice above the screaming. Her ears rang painfully, and heavy smoke filled her lungs. She coughed violently but she couldn't get rid of the fiery ache in her chest.

"Rose!"

She couldn't open her eyes. Her strength was spent trying to breathe and remain conscious. She suddenly felt a presence hovering over her body but she felt herself slipping into darkness again.

"No, no, no, no…" the voice said. She barely registered that warm arms were scooping her up into a sitting position. Her head fell heavily against a body. Hands stroked her face, jaw, hair. "Rose, you need to stay with me."

She gasped and coughed again. The arms around her tightened, "that's right. Stay with me." Fingers pressed against her neck, just under her jaw before they fluttered around her arms. "Oh!" the voice sounded panicked. She suddenly became aware that something warm and thick was dripping down her arms and chest in fast rivulets.

"Rose-I-I am sorry. I am so sorry."

She was suddenly weightless as the arms dipped around her and picked her body from the floor. Her arm swayed heavily in time with the person's hurried steps. Her ear was pressed soundly against the person's chest. She could feel their heartbeat thump erratically against her cheek. Her eyes peeled half open but her vision was blurred. She could barely make out the person's features.

"Do-Doctor?"

They looked down at her. Their lips hardened into a grim line but she swore she could see it trembling.

"It's going to be alright," they said in response, "I've got you. Just stay with me, just keep talking."

"Thought I'd never see you again," she said weakly, her throat tightened and she coughed again. Her eyes drooped and closed again.

"I'm right here Rose… I'm not going anywhere."

The person stopped before she felt her body shift in their arms. They turned and suddenly rammed themselves into something. Her skin prickled at the sudden cool breeze. She could hear the shrill of sirens in the distance above the ringing in her ears. The person paused in their steps again.

"Help is on the way, Rose. Keep talking, alright? Just until help arrives. Can you do that for me? You're going to be okay."

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she fought to stay conscious. The sirens shrilled louder and louder.

"What?"

"For…"

"Over here! I see survivors!" Another voice shouted.

Before they could reach them, her head lolled back as she submitted to the darkness once more.

* * *

Rose could smell a mixture of something metallic and bleached. Her face scrunched uncomfortably at the smell. A soft beeping to her left caught her attention.

Her eyes fluttered open. The lights were dimmed so it was difficult to focus. Glancing down, Rose found that an IV was attached to her right wrist. A soft purple blanket covered the white sheets that were tucked around her body. It wasn't difficult to surmise that she was currently in a hospital. _But why?_

She tried to sit up but hissed when doing so brought a sharp pain in her skull. She groaned and cradled her head. The ringing in her ear did not help the pain at all. The crisp sheets rustled softly as she leaned back in the pillow to relieve her pain.

 _What the hell? What's going on?_

She began to glance around and jumped at seeing a figure sitting beside her. John was leaning forward, his eyes were closed while his head was cradled in his palm. She could hear him snore softly as his head nodded forward, threatening to fall from his grip. The dark purple circles under his eyes looked prominent even in the dimmed lighting. He was wearing one of the black tees she had picked for him and some dark-wash jeans. His long scruff still made him look like a wild man, but the appearance of it no longer shocked her.

His head slipped from his palm and his body slumped forward. He jolted awake. His hands clutched the arms of the chair to steady himself. She held back a laugh before he looked up and their eyes met.

"You're awake!" he exclaimed in surprise, "how are you feeling?"

"My head hurts," she admitted. Her voice came out weak and raspy. She cleared her throat but the itchiness refused to leave. "What happened? Why am I here?"

He looked like he was hesitating. She frowned and was about to speak again before he finally replied, "Do you… not remember?"

"I…" She looked back to him. His mouth formed into an uncharacteristic grim line amongst his stubble. His whole face seemed weighed down by a heaviness she couldn't place her finger on. She was confused. Her thoughts swirled, stretching into her memory until-

It all rushed back to her like a vengeful tsunami. She remembered the hot blast of the explosion, the screams, the shattering windows, and… her eyes widened. Someone came. Someone carried her and held her-maybe even saved her life. But who? Her thoughts stretched through the memory, trying to recall anything else but found that she couldn't. The weight of the events sank heavily in her gut.

"What happened?! What-where is my mom? Where's Dad? What happened to Tony?" she sputtered, barely breathing with the sudden adrenaline that consumed her.

Before he could answer, a knock on the door startled them both. Both looked toward the door as a nurse came in, "glad to see you awake, Ms. Tyler," the woman greeted, "I'll notify the doctor and your other visitors immediately."

"Other visitors?" Rose echoed in confusion.

"Yes! I believe some of your work colleagues are here to see you," the nurse smiled, "however, some detectives from the police department also want to speak with you. They said they'll be arriving in about twenty minutes."

"O-oh," Rose attempted to gather her scrambled thoughts together to form a rational sentence. Her mind was blanking but she managed to say, "alright."

"Should I let your visitors in now, Ms. Tyler?"

Rose nodded and the nurse quickly went to the door to let three people in. The nurse excused herself with, "let me know if you need anything else Ms. Tyler," before exiting. The figures approached and Rose immediately recognized Martha taking the lead. John stiffened in his seat when he saw her. She forgot that he had never seen the parallel version of Martha before. Her co-workers Robert Craw and Cynthia Heady followed.

"John Smith, I presume?" Martha asked, extending her hand toward him.

He shook the hand while his brows furrowed, "yes, that's me. Who's asking?"

"Martha Jones. Head of Torchwood," she replied easily, "Rose was supposed to introduce us-"

Rose's cheeks flushed at this, "don't…"

"But I suppose the circumstances call for a sooner greeting," Martha finished with a mock smile.

"Apparently," he said uneasily.

"Good to see you alive," Martha greeted Rose.

Rose scoffed, "been better, but yeah, still alive. But, can you or anyone in this bloody room tell me what's going on? Does anyone know where my family is? I assume if you're here things have royally cocked up."

"You would assume correct." Martha turned to Robert and gestured for a file he had in his hands.

"Your mum is fine Rose," John said to her reassuringly while Martha's back was turned. "She's in the next room actually. She's just sprained her ankle and wrist. Probably has a mild concussion."

"What about Tony?"

"With your aunt Georgina, I believe."

"And dad?"

"He's been abducted," Martha said bluntly handing her a manilla file.

"What?! How could-what? Who-where? Why?" her tongue tripped over the words while her mind raced on without her.

She could feel herself slipping. She was blanking. Her vision drew in and out again, catching every detail on Martha's black shirt and leather jacket but then again, not looking at anything at the same time. _You've lost him! You'll never see dad again! You let him go! How could you?_ Tension spread in her face and limbs. She vaguely recognized that the drumming in her ears was her heartbeat. She tried swallowing but found that her mouth was dry.

"Rose? You alright?"

Rose's eyes snapped up to see John's worried face next to her. She breathed in and out slowly before she realized that the file was still extended toward her.

"Everything is in this file," Martha said patiently.

She retrieved it and opened it with shaky hands. Her eyes strained to remain focused and read the words on the paper. When she finally managed to understand the print, her eyes widened.

"You've got to be joking."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Thank you all for waiting for ch. 10. Enjoy!

* * *

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Tyler," the detective said, getting up from the chair.

Rose nodded cordially in return.

"If there is any other information you could provide for us in the future, don't hesitate to call," the other detective added.

"I'll let you know," she said.

The two detectives left the room and Rose sighed in relief. Although it wasn't an interrogation, giving her witness account had been emotionally exhausting. Recounting the details had helped solidify that her horrific situation was... in fact… real. She rested her head back in the pillows and stared at the ceiling. Her brain reeled and attempted to pad the shock of the situation from sinking in again.

 _This can't be happening,_ she thought numbly to herself.

She heard a knock on the door but didn't acknowledge it. The door opened anyway and Martha and John approached her bed.

"Did you tell them everything?" Martha asked.

"Yes," she said hollowly.

"Good. Torchwood needs to play nice with our U.N.I.T agreement."

"U.N.I.T?" John asked, his brows furrowing and his arms folded across his chest. This was an unusual stance for him, she concluded. Rose could tell that he was uncomfortable with being left in the dark. _Must be weird not knowing everything about this world…_

"To legitimize Torchwood and to keep it from going under, we made an agreement to join forces with the government. We rebranded ourselves as U.N.I.T but... we're still attached to the name Torchwood."

John looked like he was about to ask more questions but Martha turned to Rose instead, "The doctors advised you stay in the hospital for another night."

"I'm not going to," Rose said defiantly.

Martha smirked at this, "I figured as much. Which is why I've prepared your very own U.N.I.T 'pass'. Apparently their word is law," she said and Rose smiled in gratitude.

"So I can leave?"

"Wait-" John tried to interject.

"Anytime you want," Martha said. She glanced between Rose and John before turning to leave, "I'll be at headquarters... I'll send you more details and arrange a team for you."

As soon as Martha left the room, Rose immediately began to rip the tape that held her IV in place. She didn't get very far, though. Her wrist was suddenly suspended in the air. She looked at the hand that held her arm hostage with surprise.

"I can't let you just rip it out like that," John said sternly.

"I can't just sit here either," she retorted with withered patience. She managed to pull out of his grip. He threw his hands up in exasperation.

"You have a grade three concussion, Rose, not to mention over two-hundred stitches! How do you expect to run around in the state you're in? Do you realize how serious this is?"

"I've been worse and still managed to find you," she said hotly. He seemed taken aback by this but she continued on anyway, "my dad is in danger, John. We have no idea what these… people might do to him! Every second wasted could…" she swallowed, not wanting to allow the thought of her father dying to linger and trigger her anxiety. She shook her head, "it could be devastating. I don't want to even think about it!"

He still didn't look entirely convinced. Another thought crossed her mind-a memory once upon a time when _her_ Doctor still had his northern accent. He thought he knew what was best for her then. He thought he could keep her out of danger too. But, he had underestimated her. She had looked into the heart of the TARDIS and saved his life. _Why would he doubt me again?_

She held her head higher and went for the kill, "a long time ago, you taught me something, something important. I used to have nothing to look forward to. I was just a bored little shop girl before you showed up. Every day was the same and… you showed me a better life. And, no, not just the 'wibbly-wobbly time and space' adventure stuff."

She caught a small smile from him and so she pressed forward, "None of that mattered, not really anyway. What was important was learning to make a stand. You don't give up, and you don't run away! You have the guts to do what's right even when everyone else runs away. So, I need to act _now_ whether you're with me or not."

The air around them seemed electric. She stared him down and felt her blood pump heavily in her veins. The adrenaline from her speech had more of an effect on her than she thought it would. She hadn't ever admitted those things to him before and now that she had… she felt oddly free.

His gaze softened.

Several seconds passed and Rose held her breath for his reply.

He finally sighed, "I'm on your side, Rose. I'll always help you…"

She exhaled in relief, "thank you."

"But, could you at least call a nurse in to do it? Or at least let me help you?"

"Wha?"

"The IV," he nodded and she followed his gaze to her wrist.

"Oh! Oh, yeah… sure."

He quietly left the room. Not a minute later and he came back with some gauze and tape. She stared at him curiously.

"How did you manage to find those?" she asked, impressed.

"I've familiarized myself with hospitals over the years," he said in his matter-of-fact way. "Parallel versions aren't very different… especially when they leave medical trolleys out."

She gave a small chuckle and he came to sit next to her. He pulled his chair closer and gently reached for her hand. His touch was light as a feather as he maneuvered her hand. She watched in silence as he carefully peeled the rest of the tape off and put pressure on the IV with the gauze. He held the gauze tight before sliding the IV out and taping the gauze securely over her wrist.

"There," he said triumphantly, "at least you won't be bloody mess on my watch."

She inspected her wrist before smiling, "never knew you could do this kind of thing! You should be a doctor or something," she joked lightly.

"There's a reason they used to call me that."

Their eyes met, but neither said a word. She swallowed thickly before the memories of their previous encounter filled her mind. Guilt and shame swam heavily in her stomach.

"John… about before… in the basement, well, I just wanted to say-"

"Let's not worry about that right now," he said quickly, while standing, "we've got a lot to do and not much time, remember?" He smiled and extended out his hand.

She nodded in agreement. He was right afterall, they had more important things to worry about right now. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and took his hand. She allowed his weight to pull her up, but as soon as she was on her feet, her head began spinning. Dark spots clouded her vision and she grabbed the nearest solid object to steady herself. Her hand fisted around his black tee and he grabbed both of her arms to keep her stable. She waited for the dizziness to pass while taking a deep breath.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, just give me a sec."

She looked up and found that their faces were inches apart. She could see every detail of his face including all the tiny freckles that patterned his nose. She quickly let go of his tee but stumbled again. He steadied her shoulders and prevented her from falling over.

"You sure about this, Rose?"

She closed her eyes, breathed in and nodded in determination. She opened her eyes again, "I'm more than sure. I don't have a choice. I have to do this. I'll be alright," she reassured him. He slowly released his grip on her and she stood confidently without his help. "See?" she said, "all better. Now, where's my dress?"

"Erm… I believe it's permanently indisposed at the moment."

"What?"

John reached for a press seal bag on the stand next to them. Inside was the remnants of her green, silky dress. Her heart dropped in disappointment. "They had to cut it off you because they were unsure of how serious the damage was. Your jewelry are inside as well if you're interested."

She shrugged in defeat, "well, figures. Too bad I spent 150 on it," she muttered."Guess like I'll be wearing this out!" she gestured to her hospital dressing gown.

"Well, Martha dropped off some things for you before she left. They're in a bag over there," he pointed to a small table in the corner of the room.

She made cautious strides towards it in case she had another dizzy spell. To her relief, she was fine as she reached the table. She opened the bag, ruffled through it and sighed in relief.

"I never thought I'd say this out loud but, I love her! Just don't tell her I said so," she smiled as she grabbed the bag and headed toward the loo. She locked the door and quickly changed into the new pants and bra Martha provided for her. She donned the blue shirt and jeans before putting on the deodorant that was in the bag. She ripped out the new toothbrush from its plastic wrapping before brushing her teeth. She brushed her greasy hair out with a few strokes of the comb provided before calling it good.

When she came out, she placed the handle of the bag over her shoulder before nodding towards the door.

"You ready?" She asked.

John nodded in return.

"Let's say goodbye to mum before we go. Sound like a plan?"

"Lead the way, Rose."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Thank you for your patience.

* * *

The black and white image flickered on the screen. Rose stared at it intensely, letting her eyes roam over the image. The man, Luis, she recalled sourly, had hands searching his white dinner jacket and black trousers at the door of her home. The camera had a close up shot of his face, as the security officer who wore it came closer to the man. He was cleared and let inside.

Rose tapped a finger to her lips. There wasn't anything off about the image. It was completely normal. The next man who came up to the security officer made her pause.

Cynthia pressed a button on the keyboard and the image stilled. "See this?"

Rose nodded and pointed at the screen, "what is that?"

"It seems to be some sort of reflection," John cut in.

She turned behind her, "reflection?" She glanced to Martha who was standing beside John with folded arms. The women shared a look but Rose couldn't decipher if Martha knew this information already.

"See, when infrared security cameras look through a glass window, the image can be washed out by ambient, infrared or status lights that are reflected against it. You see how some details of his face look glared?" John asked, pointing to the man.

"Yeah," she murmured.

"This only occurs on camera if there are smooth, reflective materials that are washed out by light, or in other words, the chandelier lights above him." John pointed to the light that was washing the man's head in a glow.

"And humans aren't made of those things," Rose said quietly. Her eyes bored holes into the screen in a desperate attempt to make it go away. Dealing with a kidnapping was one thing. Dealing with aliens and kidnapping? That was another.

Just when I thought all of this was over...

"Well, I mean, technically human beings are made up of-" John began but paused when she gave him a look. "But, no, you're right. Humans are not made of the same molecular _structure_ as glass or metal," he said, his voice was laced with a hint of sarcasm. One of her brows raised in surprise at his tone.

Cynthia spun in her chair to face them, her neon blue braids swung with the motion, "it was in the file, Rose-"

"I know, I was… not very happy reading that," Rose shook her head.

"We suspected from the video that they weren't exactly human," Martha said, "we were hoping that John could confirm what they are."

The three women looked to John expectedly. His eyes glanced between them before putting a finger to his chin. He stepped closer to the image and seemed to study it for several moments. Time ticked forward. The silence stretched on. Rose and Martha exchanged a look. Martha nodded and Rose cleared her throat.

"You do know what they are, right...John?"

"Well… it's apparent that whatever material they're made of, they're able to somehow manipulate light in such a way that they can not only reflect light, they can absorb it to shapeshift to any image-"

"Shapeshift?" Martha asked. "You're telling me we're dealing with shapeshifters?"

"From the way that the image reflects light here… and here," he pointed, "shows that its original form is not skin-like. It's made from something smooth… like glass or metal as we've established," he tapped the image on the screen.

"Perhaps," Martha conceded.

"What's to stop it from absorbing light in such a way that it can manipulate its image from turning it into anything it wants? Within reason, of course. Can't stretch its proportions too far," John explained quickly.

"But, you've never encountered anything like it before?" Martha asked.

John frowned. His brows creased as he finally shook his head. "No. Not exactly like this. Similar, absolutely. Parallel worlds may hold similar people and species, but there's also the possibility that there are species that exist here that do not exist in the dimension I am from and vice versa."

"I see," Martha hummed.

Rose pursed her lips in disappointment and tried to avoid eye contact with John. It's fine, she reasoned, we've encountered aliens we haven't heard of before. We've always come on top… well… mostly. She tried not to let that thought linger too long.

The silence around them became unbearable. Rose turned her attention to the screen, "can we look at the other tapes? What leads do we have?"

Cynthia wheeled around immediately. Her slender fingers flew across the keyboard until another image of her father and Luis popped on the screen.

"Here is them in the ballroom."

Three different camera angles popped up on screen: one bird's eye view from the ceiling and two from the left and right corners of the room.

"Can you zoom in?" Rose asked.

"Which one?" Cynthia inquired.

"Right corner," she said.

The camera from the right zoomed in on the image. They proceeded to watch the video in silence. Most of the conversation was overpowered by the two-hundred guests around them. Rose folded her arms as she saw their 'silent' conversation unfold. At first, the conversation seemed to be casual and full of pleasantries. When her father looked as though he was about the end the conversation, Luis took his hand but placed his other on her father's shoulder. He leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Her father stilled. She watched as his eyes widened.

"What did he say to you, dad?" she murmured out loud.

The two exchanged hushed words for about ten more minutes before Pete finally nodded and followed Luis out of the ballroom.

"Can you follow them?"

"We have a five second clip of them here before it blacks out," Cynthia said.

"Great, they cut the cameras too?" Rose asked. _Who the hell are these people?_ Teeth found the skin of the inside of her mouth. She chewed on it anxiously while a hand flew up to her forehead in frustration. She managed to shake off the boiling irritation and fear roiling in her gut and focused her attention on the screen. Her father was in mid-step down the same hallway she encountered him in. His brows were furrowed into his skull and the frown on his lips weighed his whole face down. It broke her heart to see the blatant worry in his eyes. He looked so scared.

"Well, not all of them," Cynthia said before her fingers clicked on the keyboard again.

Anticipation and hope clawed up in her throat. Rose counted the seconds down before another image popped on the screen.

"Where is this coming from?" Rose asked.

"We found… what looked like some man-made cameras around the perimeter of your house," Cynthia said.

"Man-made?"

"Yeah, see for yourself," Cynthia picked up a small metal object on the desk and dropped it in her hand. It reminded her of a button the size of a half-pee. She touched the blue surface and the object 'blinked' at the motion as though it were alive. The black shutters opened and closed like a camera. She had never seen anything like it before.

"Where'd these come from?"

Cynthia turned to Rose and nodded behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see John standing with his hands folded together like a reprimanded school-boy. He shuffled from foot to foot and shrugged when he made eye-contact.

"Wait," she said, turning to him fully, "you made these?"

"Yes," he confessed, "although I counted twenty-three cameras in your home, they were hardly very reliable," he sniffed a little at this as though thinking about the technology made him cringe. "And, with all the exponential amount of time I had I, well… figured you could use the extra security."

"How many?" she asked.

"Ahh, well, including the one in your hand I'd say about…" he visibly counted his fingers and looked towards the ceiling in thought, "nine more. They might come in handy. They're shock proof, water-proof, and can endure just about anything. Try smashing it with a hammer, they're pretty strong," he smiled proudly.

Rose balked at this. Her mouth hung a little unflatteringly as she stared at him. She had almost forgotten who this man was. He was a clone of one of the-if not the-most intelligent men she had met in the entire galaxy. To think that he made cameras in his spare time was child's play in comparison to the things she had seen his counterpart accomplish. However, comparing him to the Doctor made her stomach flop a little. It was sad to think he was wasting his potential tinkering on cameras.

"How'd you make them?"

"Pete gave me some scraps from the International Electromatics department that he took over. I'll show you when we're… well, not busy saving him," he grimaced.

Gratitude swelled in her chest. She couldn't believe that his cameras saved the day. "You're brilliant, you know that?" she smiled, teeth and all.

John looked up at her, "just some cameras," he shrugged but his eyes had softened. She remembered how her Doctor would look at her the same way whenever she would grace him her smile. She blushed at the thought.

"Well, they might have just saved this case," Martha said, breaking Rose from her thoughts. She pointed to the screen, "let's hit play."

Cynthia pressed a key and the scene began to unfold.

 _A black van rumbled softly in the night. There was the sound of crunching gravel before three men came around the corner. Both Luis and the 'man' from the first tape were holding her father's arms tightly. He was bucking and thrashing against their grip. Luis seemed to struggle to keep Pete's arm in control, but the other seemed to be unphased by her father's strength._

 _"Bastards! You lying bastards!" he shoved against Luis. For a moment, Luis lost his grip on Pete With his free arm, he swung at Luis and struck his face._

 _"Mierda!" Luis cried out. His hands cupped his nose but blood poured through the cracks of his fingers. "Ayúdeme! Vesh!"_

 _The van doors opened. Two more men rushed out and tackled her father to the ground._

She gasped when she heard the sickening thud of bodies hitting gravel.

 _"You told me no one would get hurt!" Pete screamed. His head was jerking from side to side as they pinned his arms to his back. One 'man' pulled out something from his pocket. The 'man' proceeded to put the object around her dad's neck. Pete immediately stopped thrashing and went limp on the ground. Three of the men picked up his body while his head lolled to the side. They ungraciously packed him in the van, got in, and shut all the doors. The headlamps turned on and blared brightly into the camera. As soon as they backed up, the image was clear again. Their tyres screeched as they peeled off into the night._

Rose finally exhaled. She didn't realize that she was holding her breath for the entirety of the video. It was difficult to watch. She managed to take a deep breath and cleared her mind of the anxiety that plagued her thoughts like a rabid swarm of hornets. She needed to focus.

"I assume you got a clear shot of the license?" Rose asked at last.

The video rewinded and paused. Cynthia zoomed in on the image and digitally circled it in red, "got you covered! We've been working on it since 1 am after the incident. We have some leads already but we thought you'd like to see the videos yourself."

"I appreciate it. What information do we have?" Rose asked

"Mark, can you send that over?" Cynthia asked across from her. A red-headed man with a headphone set over his ears popped up from his computer. He gave a thumbs up before sitting down again.

A file popped up on the screen. Cynthia clicked on it and many pages opened up at once. She cleared some away and began typing on the keyboard. "Basically," she began, "we tracked down the car to this location."

A picture of a map filled the screen. It was zoomed in and rested on an image of an abandoned warehouse. "We just got this information five minutes ago. We still think the vehicle and your father are there," Cynthia said.

Rose felt the foreign warmth of hope spark in her chest. _There's a chance! I can bring him home today!_ But, irritation soon replaced hope as it began to simmer in her veins as she realized the implications of the information. She backed away from the computer, "then we've already wasted five minutes," she said impatiently. She rounded on Martha, "do you have a team ready for me or not?"

"Doesn't look like _you're_ ready," Martha replied evenly, "meet them in the garage when you're done. Cynthia will also join you."

Cynthia smiled at Rose but she didn't return the favor. She gave a curt nod to Martha before turning on her heel. She looked at John and gestured for him to follow.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he stumbled to catch up with her.

"We're going to need a gun," she replied calmly, "a big gun."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Better late than never. This chapter is rough like the rest of them. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Do you understand your objectives?" Martha asked the group. Seven heads, including Rose's, nodded. "Right then. Get to it."

The team dispersed and walked toward the armoured, black van. It reminded Rose of a SWAT van they used in movies except their van had the words U.N.I.T painted in white on the side. She glanced at the woman who was taking the driver's seat. Her black hair was shaved close on each side but was slightly longer on top. Her dark skin was covered in the same black uniform the rest of the team donned. The woman-Sam was it? she thought-started the engine and waited for everyone to pile in. Jordan, a tall, bulky man called shotgun while Kyle, Cynthia, and James sat in the back.

Rose climbed in and took a seat on the opposite wall. The seats were parallel from each other so she was forced to face her new teammates. John followed and took the seat next to her without a word. Sam looked back through the gated barrier between them and the drivers seat. She gave a thumbs up and everyone reciprocated the gesture. Sam nodded and the van roared to life.

Rose's newly acquired weapon rested across her lap. The gun was half her size but thick, canvas straps secured it against her left shoulder and prevented it from jostling. Although large and bulky, it wasn't as heavy as it looked. She would still be forced to use both hands but it created quite a satisfying and silent pulsed energy projectile when fired.

She glanced at her new teammates she had just met twenty minutes chatted amiably with each other as though they were best mates. Her heart twisted at the thought of her old friends. She missed Jake and his biting sarcasm. He could always make her laugh and forget about her problems. He knew her pain, he understood the ripping loss of someone you love. His own pain was tangible sometimes. He still loved his boyfriend and never quite got over his death. Their pain was different but similar enough for him to sympathize with her.

Another friend's face popped up in her mind. The thought of Mickey made her eyes prickle like stinging nettle. Mickey had always been good to her. Sure, he wasn't always the most exciting boyfriend when they dated but he had always been loyal. Every time she came back home from her adventures with the Doctor, he was there waiting for her. He was always waiting for her. The Doctor thought he was daft but Mickey was smarter than he let on. He knew that her feelings for him were waning. He could tell by the way that she looked at the Doctor that he had already lost her. It was no wonder why he wanted to stay in Pete's World. She wondered why he even bothered staying friends with her when she found herself trapped in the same world. Mickey was surprised to be reunited with her but he was friendly as ever. He was always there to comfort her and offer words of advice. He had grown up a lot since they had parted. Her heart sank.

But now she was all alone. After the incident at Medusa's Cascade, Mickey and Jake had decided to stay in her parallel universe to help the original Martha. They had all thought she would be staying too. They all thought wrong.

 _God, I miss them. They would know what to do and say._ She rested her head back and stared at the van ceiling.

Time passed and Rose was lost in thought before she felt something-or someone-shaking beside her. She looked to her left and found John bouncing his legs. The dark uniform that he donned looked strange on him. It made him look so… normal… and military-like. The black material stretched nicely over his slender arms and legs. The padded, bullet proof vest he wore over it made it seem like he had more bulk than he had. It created a more muscular and… masculine look on him. With his beard-Rose admitted that it no longer counted as scruff anymore-he looked like a completely different person. She had never seen him in anything but suits, t-shirts and jeans until now. The sight was bizarre to say the least.

He was staring at a gun in his hands. It was a fraction of the size of hers. It was an energy projectile pistol with a shiny silver handle. He twisted and turned it over and over in his gloved hands with a strange expression on his face. A deep frown was etched on his lips.

"It won't bite unless you want it to," she said. This seemed to coax a small smirk from him.

"Really? I figured a ghost would trigger it before I could," he drawled sarcastically. It reminded her of Donna Noble. She smiled.

"Careful, those ghosts might be Cybermen," she bantered.

"Wouldn't want a rerun of that again!" he smiled but it fell just as soon as it came. Rose frowned as well. The invisible wounds from the memory he referred to twinged.

"Yeah… I'd rather not relive the worst day of my life," she said, shrugging.

"Me neither."

She almost didn't catch what he had said. When it had finally registered, she stared at him but he was too busy fiddling with his pistol again to notice. She pursed her lips and studied his fidgeting hands.

"Are you ready?" she asked, breaking their silence.

"No. You?"

"Don't think I'll ever be ready for things like this," she admitted. He didn't answer her but focused on turning his pistol in his hands. "Not the same as a sonic screwdriver," she said, the fiddling ceased. Their encounter in the basement filled her mind.

"Not in the least," he agreed quietly.

"I know this isn't your ideal way of handling things but… at least you can defend yourself if needed."

"Yeah."

"I just want you to know that I really appreciate you helping me…" she paused, thinking back to the horrifying night they both had eighteen hours ago. "And… for being there in the hospital with me."

He didn't look at her, "of course…"

"We never really talked about how I got there," she said, trying to encourage an explanation out of him. She had been so concerned about her father that she hadn't really thought about how she got to the hospital safely. The memory from last night was still jumbled and fuzzy. She could only remember the awful screams and the smoke clawing her lungs.

"I found you."

His eyes were focused intensely on his hands. His grip on the gun tightened; the veins in his hands protruded from the gesture. Her eyes softened.

"Thank you," she reached for his knee and squeezed it in gratitude. She didn't know what else to say. He looked so somber and broken that she was afraid to say anything else. He followed her silence and nothing else was said on the matter.

When the van came over a bridge, Jordan turned from the front seat to confront them. The sun glared on his dark, bald head when he faced them. His posture was rigid and straight-very reminiscent of his military background. "Alright, we are ten meters away from the target's location. From the looks of it, the target is still on the premises. I want all of you behind me and Sam, am I clear?"

"Yes, sir!" the team echoed.

"That's what I like to hear," he said.

Rose took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She checked the straps of her gun and made sure they were secured. Sitting up straighter, her fingers tapped anxiously against her weapon as they came around another corner. The other hand reached for the buckle of her seat belt and hovered over it until the signal was given.

As soon as the van stopped, Jordan nodded two fingers to his right. A chorus of clicking and unbuckling commenced and everyone got into position. Kyle was at the door, waiting for Jordan and Sam to come around and give them the second signal. When they heard a swift, distinct knock, Kyle wrenched the door open. There was no time to think. Rose quickly hopped out of the van and followed her team.

Their feet crunched over loose dirt and leaves. The warehouse was old- _probably from World War Two_ she reckoned. Bricks were scattered or crumbling in the dilapidated, graffitied walls. Moss was scattered over the dirt and walls like velvet paint. Sam raised her fist and they all stopped. The sound of a car engine rumbling to life sounded to their right. Her head whipped in that direction and her eyes widened.

A large, gray van came hurtling around the building. Plants and bricks were pommeled under the tyres as it made a beeline for the road. They all turned, ducked and aimed at the vehicle. Rose's eyes scanned the windows to try and find any signs of her dad.

"On my comman-" Sam was interrupted by an energy projectile zapping the ground next to her. Rose jerked and her heart hammered in her chest when another zap hit the dirt next to her feet. It was coming from behind!

"Take cover!" Sam yelled.

Rose dove for a bush and immediately laid low in its branches. John followed and brushed elbows with her. Projectiles crackled around them, burning holes in the leaves. His eyes were wide but focused as he looked through the branches.

"Do you see them?" she asked.

"One is on the roof and the other by that door over there," he pointed.

"Sam, on the roof!" she shouted, "Another, two o'clock, left door!"

"Copy that!" she heard her say from the far left.

A blaze of energy pulses sizzled the air. As the crossfire intensified, Rose looked over her shoulder and saw the van driving further away. Her heart drummed madly in her chest as Pete's face emerged in one of the windows. His image disappeared as soon as it appeared and her fists clenched over her gun.

"Stay here," she said firmly. She shuffled backwards but felt a hand grab hers tightly.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

There was no time to explain. She ripped her hand from his and backed out of the bush. John swiped at her but she easily maneuvered around him. Leaves and twigs scraped her face as she backed up. One branch swiped her face and blood trickled down her cheek. She ignored it. Once she was free, she turned and sprinted toward the road. The air crackled around her as she ran. She ignored the shouting of her name and the chaos behind her. None of that mattered. She needed to catch that van.

As soon as her feet hit the pavement, she stopped and aimed. The shot fired and missed; the force of it pushed her backwards. She steadied herself and aimed again. The projection missed the back tyre by a few centimeters.

"Shit!" she swore and scrambled to catch up with it once more. It was picking up speed and the distance was growing bigger between them.

"Shit, shit, SHIT!" she screamed before blindly aiming at the van and firing. The energy projectiles hit nothing but pavement.

"Fucking hell!" Rose shouted to the air. Frustrated tears clung to her bottom lashes as she continued to sprint after the vehicle.

"Rose!"

She turned just in time to see another van barrel towards her. Before she could jump out of the way, something solid and heavy slammed into her. Arms tightened around her as they fell heavily onto the pavement. Her head rattled as they rolled three times before falling down an incline. The grass cushioned their stop and Rose looked up, dazed.

The body on top of her was heavy. The weight was constricting her ribs from expanding; it was difficult to breathe. Her arms were trapped but even if she had the strength, she could not move. She could feel their hot breath on her neck and jaw. She glanced down and saw strands of brown hair tickle her cheek. The body heaved and a soft groan rumbled as they exhaled. Their arms straightened and pushed themselves off of her.

Her eyes met John's exhausted face hover above her before he collapsed on top of her once more.


End file.
